Feeling watched and claustrophobic lately, I did something yesterday that I used to do a lot before I moved here: I wandered off alone for some time to myself to think, away from the computer, the phone, the people. I walked to the harbourfront here in Toronto, a long walk, and took the ferry across to the harbour islands. I spent hours walking around by myself, reading my book, and hoping for some clarity in my head, some time to process and digest. I was waiting for something to hit me.
But not much did. I'm not sure what it is about this place, but I can't think. I'm definitely happier now than I was a couple months ago, so it's not a question of contentment. This place simply doesn't animate in me the visceral thrills and flashes of nirvana-like clarity that other places do, though I think that might change a lot if I went away and came back.
I leave Toronto in less than a month, something that still hasn't settled in. While I like it here, while I look forward to returning some day, for now this city doesn't arouse much in me, other than a feeling of tiredness and futility. It's time to go.
1 comment:
Hey thanks for the comments on my photoblog Jenny.
I liked what you wrote here. I've been in Toronto for about three months, and strangely I went to the islands this weekend in just about the same fashion.
Echoed sentiments, and an awakening appreciation for the sometimes too quiet, but moments of picturesque, and of quiet solitude found on the wet coast.
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