I leave for Toronto in a day and a half.
I haven’t packed. I don’t know where I’m staying (Well, my friends do, but I’ve neglected to ask. We’re also flying in on different days). Don’t ask me why I’m leaving New York’s somewhat chilly weather for Toronto’s somewhat chilly weather. But here and there, warm weather creeps in (At times it oddly feels like summer).
It never lasts.
Good news is, the warmth has dragged people out from their caves. Weekends are filling up. Work is picking up. Things are happening. Everyone is nicer, in a way New Yorkers are not supposed to be (For the record, I haven’t encountered a particularly mean New Yorker, born and bred or otherwise). They hold doors, let you sit on the train and even sing a jingle or two while skipping to the subway. Or maybe that’s just me.
I haven’t laid out an itinerary for Toronto, but I’ll be sure to document it here. For now, here’s Central Park, un-blossomed.
I did manage to take pictures of non-cherry blossom things that day.
I focused on color.
And people.
There was something funny about a Zamboni on an extremely warm day.
And a guy smirking while a strange girl took his picture.
Crowds gathered around the mystery bagpiper under the bridge.
There were buckets on heads.
Some peace and quiet, too.
People openly loved.
Finally, notice the sign. Notice the legs behind the sign.
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