Hasta luego Toronto

I sit in my brother’s old bedroom in my parents’ house trying to make sense of the last five years in Toronto. Naturally, I turn to the internet. For “research.”  I search for songs that would capture the city where I became an adult. Although I have never lived  downtown, preferring the comfort of the Annex, the crowded high-rises of St Jamestown or the family-friendly Beaches, Great Lake Swimmers’ Concrete Heart struck me in the gut. Toronto is the city I fell in love with when I come back from a year in Managua, one of the most challenging in my life to date, and four years in Waterloo, the suburb that’s trying so hard to be a city. It’s the city where I fell out of love, first with the charming streetcars, and then with one boyfriend after another. Toronto is a patient city. Its hidden treasures, bike trails and hiking paths, accessible from Gordon Lightfoot’s Yonge Street, forgive long absences. It accepts that I have spent too much time in Robarts but not enough time on my thesis. Sometimes. Suddenly a taxi almost doors me. On my bike, Toronto wins me over and I call it home.


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