In Their Own Words

This piece was selected to be part of Hello, Neighbour, a community engagement project that takes six pieces of writing from residents of Toronto, and uses them as inspiration for six new works by local artists.

Join us Saturday, Feb. 23rd, 2019 2-5 pm for a day of performances by the artists, hosted by Nana aba Duncan of CBC’s Fresh Air.

This event is FREE, click here to reserve your spot on Eventbrite!

SCARBOROUGH BLUFFS by Sheila Bello

Limestone cliffs

walls insulated with layers

of timeless geological intrigue

towering above the lakeshore

where rocks of different shapes,

hues and sizes are heaped together

or lie loosely scattered on the sand,

rocks that have rolled down

when they were dislodged

then eased out from

their beds in the earth

by rain and melting snow

before settling in the sand

on Lake Ontario’s Scarborough shoreline

where they are bathed by waves

that ebb and flow rhythmically,

where ducks quack with delight

while they swim for fun

or search for food, where

birds squeak with excitement

as they perform gymnastics in the air

to the delight of people on the ground.

And I, a frequent visitor here

when alerted by electronic

or nature’s clock

that it is time to leave

this mesmerising place,

am soothed by the knowledge

that I will soon be back

in Bluffer’s Park

at the Scarborough Bluffs.

This piece was selected to be part of Hello, Neighbour, a community engagement project that takes six pieces of writing from residents of Toronto, and uses them as inspiration for six new works by local artists.

Join us Saturday Feb. 23rd, 2019 2-5pm for a day of performances by the artists, hosted by Nana aba Duncan of CBC’s Fresh Air.

This event is FREE, click here to reserve your spot on Eventbrite!

ON A BENCH BY VICTORIA COLLEGE by Vivian Li

crowded Volvo realms rumble

when dandelion tassels cling

onto baked sweet leaves,

alarmed of simmering on winding sidewalks.

I lean against a wooden frame,

pen open and wondering

as sparrows tilt heads and bob

across thin borders,

hoping to befriend

the shadows of their friends.

Before sunset,

soft-cheeked bird and I seize

the peppered silences,

even as we walk in circles

and pause and look at each other again,

wings longing to part

This piece was selected to be part of Hello, Neighbour, a community engagement project that takes six pieces of writing from residents of Toronto, and uses them as inspiration for six new works by local artists.

Join us Saturday Feb. 23rd, 2019 2-5pm for a day of performances by the artists, hosted by Nana aba Duncan of CBC’s Fresh Air.

This event is FREE, click here to reserve your spot on Eventbrite!

EXCEPT THE FOX by Hannah Brown

I live on Beech Avenue and I have to leave extra time to walk down to The Fox Theatre on Queen Street at the bottom of the hill. Here’s why: my neighbour Karin is whizzing a wheelchair by at a fast clip with her mother in it and they stop to say hello, and goodbye, and then that old guy René, as always, in his bedroom slippers puts out a hand behind his hip to warn me to stop because a fox is out on early assignment and we wait until its tail disappears—like that— down into the steep bushy slope, and then Faisal says hello, and we talk about the latest challenge to preserving the Balsam Avenue ravine, and then I’m trailing a sweet old hippie who has been smoking a joint on her way to the movies, every time I’ve hurried down the hill since I moved here thirty years ago, only now it’s legal, I think, and there’s the manager of The Fox talking to my postal worker neighbour, Jerry, and all of these, (with the exception of that all-business fox) are lined up in front of me for hot popcorn and say, ‘Hi, Neighbour.’

This piece was selected to be part of Hello, Neighbour, a community engagement project that takes six pieces of writing from residents of Toronto, and uses them as inspiration for six new works by local artists.

Join us Saturday Feb. 23rd, 2019 2-5pm for a day of performances by the artists, hosted by Nana aba Duncan of CBC’s Fresh Air.

This event is FREE, click here to reserve your spot on Eventbrite!

HOMEWARD-BOUND by Harriet Kim

Sometimes, I joke that there is nothing that unifies Torontonians quite like complaining about public transit but there is something about being in transit (literally and figuratively) that feels like the most honest way to describe this city. Last year, I started taking a few notes – it turns out, it is an amazing thing how much I was able to reflect on this city during my commutes.

29 Dufferin Northbound bus: 6:30A.M. on a Saturday, I question, “where is everyone going at this hour?” I wonder if others on the bus wonder the same thing about me. There are always a couple of people in scrubs and I can’t imagine what that kind of work schedule must demand.

26 Dupont Westbound bus: September 2018 is my first time, at least in my memory, taking this bus. It’s not a big deal but I wonder just how much of this city I haven’t seen?

504 King Westbound streetcar: During this snow storm, I decide this may be the worst streetcar to take during rush hour – there is only so much time I am willing to stand outside in the cold and in the snow, and only so many streetcars I am willing to let pass before I make the resolution to squish onto the next streetcar. I squeeze my way into the middle of the crowd and the smell of all our damp winter coats is overwhelming.

24 Victoria Park Northbound bus: Getting from my starting location to my end destination takes over an hour and a half. With my head buried in my notebook, this neighbourhood seems unremarkable to me, maybe aside from the bright red and yellow coloured trees, and I question why.

501 Queen Westbound streetcar: I think about how I am literally moving through this city while thinking about my family’s history and the wealth of opportunities I am afforded in this city. I think about all those who came before me and I wonder, as I carry generations of hopes, dreams, grief, pain, trauma, for me to be here as I am…is this the kind of freedom my ancestors had imagined for someone like me in this city, this country, this year?

506 College streetcars: There are very specific 5-minute windows during rush hour that you can take the streetcar comfortably, or the very least, get a seat…that is, if you live far west enough.

The storefronts keep changing. The fried chicken place at College and Lippincott is new. There was something at the corner of College and Robert, but it is now empty – what was it?

Is there anything better than live music on the streets and other people’s cute dogs in this city during the summer??

There is something uniquely wonderful about bus stops and the ways people interact with each other in these particular spaces – when you see friends and family and romantic partners hugging hello and goodbye as people get on and off the bus, when you see young folks help elders carry their belongings on and off the streetcar, when you see a child excitedly pay bus fare or push the ‘stop request’ button.

The days and the transit rides blur together. There is a kind of elusive, fleeting, ephemeral characteristic to the small moments I bear witness to, but I am always reassured that people will always do what it takes to make this city home.

This piece was selected to be part of Hello, Neighbour, a community engagement project that takes six pieces of writing from residents of Toronto, and uses them as inspiration for six new works by local artists.

Join us Saturday Feb. 23rd, 2019 2-5pm for a day of performances by the artists, hosted by Nana aba Duncan of CBC’s Fresh Air.

This event is FREE, click here to reserve your spot on Eventbrite

HUMBER SHELTER by Redgina Jean-Paul

When I walk this arboretum it is often pitch black blistered soil under a veiled celestial light.

Once the cyclists, joggers and other wanderers have left the pavement barren –silent I walk my shelter in hopes a deer or fox or fallen song sparrow nest will whisper which way to go next.

More often than not I choose Mercury Rd. Bridge or Goose Island lay wide-eyed still eavesdropping on River who makes love to eroding rock and grovels for Moon to take them back.

When I walk this arboretum it is nighttime pastime fun playing Russian roulette with my life, taunting faith to mark me, careless unlucky soul; “This is Rexdale after all.”  a concerned man once said from the shadow of the bus stop shack. My Mom, always a tongue-lashing away from keeping me homebound has never questioned my love of these trees and this water.

We live in a glass house full of devil’s ivy, mother-in-law’s tongue, spider plant; we welcome nightmares wrapped in mirrors, shelter them from Canadian winter’s scorn, offer them jasmine tea. It’s a family tradition to let little girls roam free at all hours in glass slippers for there isn’t a bad thing out there that hasn’t already happened right here.

This piece was selected to be part of Hello, Neighbour, a community engagement project that takes six pieces of writing from residents of Toronto, and uses them as inspiration for six new works by local artists.

Join us Saturday Feb. 23rd, 2019 2-5pm for a day of performances by the artists, hosted by Nana aba Duncan of CBC’s Fresh Air.

This event is FREE, click here to reserve your spot on Eventbrite!

WESTON by Mayank Bhatt

Saturday mornings is my time. I generally leave home to go to do my weekly groceries and until recently when all public transit users moved to Presto cards, also buy my weekly transit pass at Lawrence West station.

Then, on some Saturdays, I visit the pharmacy at Weston and Lawrence, to get my medicines from Mohamed Ahmed, the Somali pharmacist with a Poona connection (he studied there), or to meet the other Mohammed – Mohammed Masoom – from Afghanistan, who runs the laundry and alteration place.

On such days, I usually walk down Weston – one of the most interesting streets in Toronto.

Weston has a history and heritage. I’ve developed a sense of belonging to this stretch of road from Lawrence Avenue West to Highway 401. To its immediate west is the Humber River; to its east is the railway line on which the new Union-Pearson Express operates. The village was an industrial hub long ago and has changed in its composition and character over the last century (as has most of other neighbourhoods
in Toronto).

On some weekends when both Mahrukh, my wife, and I are at home together (which is rare) we go to the P&M Restaurant on Weston Road. It’s a Greek place and serves delicious breakfast and lunch. Since I stopped having meat, I restrict myself to omelettes, and this place has arguably one of the finest omelettes in Toronto. The place is family-owned, and everyone tries their best to make you feel you’re a part of their family.

Last autumn, Mahrukh and I walked down Weston Road, and took a detour to Little Avenue to follow the auburn and yellow leaves along the Little Memorial Park. We walked from the park to the gurgling waters of the Humber River, alighting the wooden stairs to almost reach the river bed. A bicycle trail took us to Weston Park through what must usually be fairly dense foliage, but now rapidly shedding leaves, in preparation for
the coming winter. A heavy layer of clouds shielded the trees and gave a soft hue to the bright colours of the leaves. We crossed the Humber River on a wooden bridge to enter the ravines. The trees on the river bank had turned yellow and transformed the landscape into a surreal, magical psychedelic place that you’d only find in children’s
storybooks.

Further to the north is the Weston Library, which celebrated its centenary in 2014-15. Originally constructed through an Andrew Carnegie endowment in 1914, the library occupies a heritage building. Entering the building is like taking a journey into the past because it evokes a sense of being in an early 20th century wood and red bricks
home with stained glass windows. The original structure was expanded and extended to accommodate the growing need for space sometime in the 1960s.

We’d moved to our new home between Jane St and Weston Road in March 2013 and the first time I went to the Weston Library was to vote in the federal elections in 2015. In the excitement of voting for the first time in a Canadian federal election, I couldn’t see much of the library, but I loved its architecture. The Weston library makes me feel at home because of its ambience. It’s not at all like a library. It’s a place that encourages browsing of books arranged in neat rows of bookshelves, with the original part of the building housing fiction books.

A week later, after Mahrukh and I’d had our walk in the woods, I returned to the Weston Library to renew my library card (strangely, it becomes due for renewal every Halloween). I walked through the rows of neatly-arranged novels, and while browsing through the rows of fiction books, I saw my novel Belief nestled between David Bezmozgis’s The Betrayers and Rachel Billington’s Perfect Happiness on the shelf.

That made me smile. I took a photo on my phone and showed it to the library assistant. She peered into the phone, and smiled and said, “Is that you? Your book? That’s great! You must write another one now.”