The subway
brims with exotica
—though you must be vigilant as a birder in a wetland to find it.
Once, at rush hour, I spotted George Chuvalo on my car. He stood swaying, clutching a thin strap in a fist like a ham. He’d gone the distance with Ali, and nobody
recognized him. Another time, early evening, few around, former PM John Turner sat
down across from me at King, nodded agreeably, and opened his paper. No
security, nada. Then there was the famous theatre actress who looked up, met my
eye, and smiled. Fan-boy that I was, I blushed.
Inspired by The escalators at Henri-Bourassa. Image by Graeme Roy, The Canadian Press.
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