more reasons to love it here
Lastnight we walked around the old neighbourhood of Arthur st & Eramosa. The old houses with their full gardens reminded me alot of England. Maybe that's part of why I like it here so much.
In a park we came across a mangled old tree. It was hollowed out and spiralled up with some new growing branches on the very top. I went inside - it was like a tornado made of tree. In a nook of the trunk I noticed a small package with a ribbon tied around. As I reached it down, a fluffy cat climbed out of the branches. Right out of a movie. I opened it up carefully and found a book inside, as well as a tiny story on textured paper. The book was full of poems, about love, about evil. We read some out loud. I wondered whether this was left here for one specific person, or for those who can appreciate the tree enough to be curious about it and investigate. I pictured young people in love sneaking out of their houses at night to leave presents there, and love notes for each other. I wanted to leave one for them, for anyone else who might find the package in the tree and open it as I did. After we read, I placed it carefully back in the little bag with the ribbon on, and returned it to its spot nestled up inside the gnarled old trunk. I like this kind of mystery. I love this city.
In a park we came across a mangled old tree. It was hollowed out and spiralled up with some new growing branches on the very top. I went inside - it was like a tornado made of tree. In a nook of the trunk I noticed a small package with a ribbon tied around. As I reached it down, a fluffy cat climbed out of the branches. Right out of a movie. I opened it up carefully and found a book inside, as well as a tiny story on textured paper. The book was full of poems, about love, about evil. We read some out loud. I wondered whether this was left here for one specific person, or for those who can appreciate the tree enough to be curious about it and investigate. I pictured young people in love sneaking out of their houses at night to leave presents there, and love notes for each other. I wanted to leave one for them, for anyone else who might find the package in the tree and open it as I did. After we read, I placed it carefully back in the little bag with the ribbon on, and returned it to its spot nestled up inside the gnarled old trunk. I like this kind of mystery. I love this city.