We left the hotel this morning and headed into the city.
Toronto is huge. The highways are six lanes in each direction, all clogged with commuting cars. The city blocks are lined with stores and restaurants and people of every imaginable type and nationality. There’s construction everywhere.
Toronto is noisy and busy and blustery. Winter blew in from Lake Ontario and barreled down between the skyscrapers.
On the outskirts of the city proper, new highways head north. The city is building itself outward, mile by mile. Toronto keeps stretching her limits, like a sprouting tree, branches and roots extending north, east, and west.
We drove back to the hotel late this evening, a single cell among many on this concrete artery. Above, bright stars spread evenly in the sky, came closer one by one, and resolved into airplane landing lights. As far as I could see, an unending stream of planes was heading to the airport. We were all life in the great city’s bloodstream.