August 2, 2009


I will soon live a couple blocks away from where Mordecai Richler lived most of his life. I'm living in the world of an author's imagination. I do love this city.

I have no home, I think. I am Western Canadian. That is who I am, and where I am from. But it is not where I belong. Nor is anywhere else. I felt at peace and wonderfully melancholy in Stockholm. That was something. And in Montreal I am surrounded by kindred spirits; but not co-citizens.

In the end I may simply choose to live somewhere warm -because it's warm. The heat of late July in Montreal is blissfully oppressive.

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