Not to mislead - what with my disgruntled rants about the absurdity that is our public transit system - but I am sincerely, if just a bit frustrated, in love with the city. And although, as with all cities, things are lacking ultimately Toronto never ceases to amuse me. From the blasé attitude I'm convinced comes with the territory of being a true, blue Torontonian to the funky smell that drifts up from some invisible sewer grate to the always wonderful spectacle that is called TTC riders. Broken but still my Toronto.
I love the dull clack of mahjong tiles coming out of the local community hall at the dark of the night; I love the exuberant yells of the locals milling around the local park; I love the excited squeals coming from the public pool; I love even the eccentric individuals who prowl around the neighbourhood if a bit drunkenly; I love how I can sample so many different foods; I love the complexity that is just ekking out a living. I love swearing under my breathe even about those heavy set revolving doors that never seem to move without a hard shoulder shove. What I love the most is the emotion of the city that spells out onto the street. That to me, and not the manicured suburbs or the isolationism/alienation that is city living or the urban politics or the fugly architecture or waiting for the banging new metro that never comes or the disregard for anything that doesn't sound like ME. Broken but still my Toronto.
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