Friday; out finding a cup of tea in the afternoon; looking through these cool windows in one of the MANY glass towers that are eating up the old buildings in Toronto. I think eventually Toronto may look like the Emerald City did to Dorothy and her pals from that field of poppies. Yeah, land of emeralds and all that.
Today it feels almost spring-like in the morning. Or maybe that's desire. This time of year I start to yearn for colour – the grey, muddy, dirty monotones of winter start to get to me. After work I meet Ceri for dinner; he has steak fajita salad and I have baked onion soup and salad. Our dinners are not monotone.
I'm really enjoying the effects of people walking into my photographs. They're wonderfully ghostly.
CHUM Radio, and its sign, lived on Yonge Street for 50 years. Well, I'm not sure if the sign was 50 years old, but assuming close to it. Anyway, the property was sold for the development of – surprise – a condo, and the station and its sign were moved to Richmond Street. I will always think of CHUM as a Top 40 station, even though I didn't move to Toronto until many years after the station reincarnated itself (a number of times).
Pretty sure this sign isn't as historic, but tonight I'm enchanted with neon.
I admire this beautiful building every day, particularly that yellow light in the windows, the arches inside, and the detail in its exterior. I need to get here with my real camera to get some better, closer shots. I will.
Just a window I liked, walking home tonight, Friday night.
Last night Ceri and I were talking about how difficult it is to wake up in the mornings these days, and I agreed with him that’s it’s all January’s fault. Then, this morning I find wakefulness particularly elusive and when I finally drag myself out of bed I find it’s because it’s even darker than usual, thanks to heavily overcast skies and rain outside. My discombobulated state lingers when I find my apartment still dark as night even at 8:30 when I’m leaving for the office. As I round into Spadina Ave. the wind whips down and tries to wrestle my umbrella from me, but I win and when I get up into the street it’s not so bad.
I adore the colour of the atmosphere when it rains; I think that’s why I have this perpetual love for rainy days. The colours are mystical, and they paint the world under those clouds sinking low to enclose us protectively, and the glint of wet pavement, and lights taking on an incandescent glow sparkle against that purple-blue-grey hue in a way I find both comforting and inspiring.
Okay, generally, rainy days in January are not so charming. But it’s +4C and feeling absolutely balmy. Thinking about the forecasted big freeze coming our way this weekend, me and my rose – I mean purple-blue-grey – coloured glasses try to capture photos of the colours over the course of my journey while considering buying a new warm coat because it is, after all, January.
The colours of rain – beautiful thing number eighty-three.
This week I'm walking to work the "no-shortcuts" way, walking up to my office east along Adelaide Street from Spadina. It's part of the "Entertainment District" though the street with the beautiful name is rather shabby along the route I walk – it has none of the swankiness of King Street, a block south. There are some great buildings though, and construction underway in spots, and slated to begin in others, and I expect in the next few years the area will house a lot of new glass. I'll enjoy the "shabby" bits while I can!