I was walking during the lunch hour with a lover on Queen Street, looking in a bookstore for a book he wanted to buy for me. It’s a luxury to be out on the street during the day, he said. I said, look at this city under construction. The new Broadcast Centre had just been built on King and John. I said, this will never happen again, all this construction, not for us.
Twenty years later I look out the window of my ancient mother’s condo, counting cranes. A dozen, looking south east towards the lake.