samedi, juillet 02, 2005
and I feel just like I’m living someone else’s life
You walk and a breeze hits you, like the wind you'd feel on any open plain - maybe Alberta, maybe the countryside of smalltown Quebec. But this is inner city Calgary. Although it is initially a rush of cooling air in the summer heat, you sense it is less of a breeze than an envelopment of your pocket of existence by the thick city soul.
There is a muffled roar-bang-crash in the distance. Cars rumble by on these narrow urban streets. Some of them are taxis you could flag down, but you lack the ambition to wave so keep on walking.
This city breathes down on you, pulsing with life and heat and energy. Line-ups at pubs and restaurants, dressed to impress, we're all out. And the train rushes by in a blur of light and rumbling, daring you to ignore it.
A manhole cover protrudes on the boulevard from the bright green grass, a reminder of the less-flashy aspects of urban life.
The energy of the upcoming Stampede already permeates the town. The fireworks tonight seem like a warm-up for that celebration. They glare at you over the rooftop of the house as you exit the taxi. | ¶ 8:00 p.m.
There is a muffled roar-bang-crash in the distance. Cars rumble by on these narrow urban streets. Some of them are taxis you could flag down, but you lack the ambition to wave so keep on walking.
This city breathes down on you, pulsing with life and heat and energy. Line-ups at pubs and restaurants, dressed to impress, we're all out. And the train rushes by in a blur of light and rumbling, daring you to ignore it.
A manhole cover protrudes on the boulevard from the bright green grass, a reminder of the less-flashy aspects of urban life.
The energy of the upcoming Stampede already permeates the town. The fireworks tonight seem like a warm-up for that celebration. They glare at you over the rooftop of the house as you exit the taxi. | ¶ 8:00 p.m.
