Snapped this one on our Canada Day bike ride.
Tan’s tulips are comin’ up beautifully.
I’ve driven by this house many times, but it wasn’t until I saw this door left standing open that the sadness of it all hit me.
The back lot of the Bytowne Cinema. I was on my way to see what I thought was The Wrestler; turns out that was playing at the Mayfair Theatre, but I enjoyed the 4 p.m. show of The Reader nonetheless.
It’s very strange: daily living against the backdrop of a big change that’s still many months away. There are many things to do, and my motivation ebbs and flows as you might expect; but, frankly, some significant stretches of time bring the movie Groundhog Day strongly to mind.
This feeling is stronger this week, and I think the new paint on the walls and boxes in the rooms are largely to blame. At the risk of revealing how utterly unoriginal my thinking is, I feel like I could close my eyes and open them again on a moment ten minutes in my past, and close and open them again on the same scene three days in my future, just like Doctor Manhattan. Note that I didn’t reference my distant future: I know this will all change dramatically in what is really the very near future; it’s just that this illusion is so heavy sometimes.
My days are full, but it is easy to lose the path that connects them, on this, the long change.
Another comic run done! What to read first…
