Something Human Happened on the Way To City Hall
Kindness and a stuffed fox
Vancouver. One of the most expensive places to exist in North America. A place where the average income is under $60k, and the income you need to buy a home almost $250k, and somehow the governing folks can’t figure out how to reconcile those figures. Not with the red-duct-tape they’ve wrapped around their ankles. There are tents in the parks.
A garage by another name is not a tent
At the other end of the duplex in which I live is a little building called a garage, insulated and heated, with some small amount of electricity, windows and a bright skylight. It’s my garage, and I dream of adding a loft for a mattress, a composting toilet and some solar panels on the south-facing roof; it could be a perfect little laneway house for my musician son.
I’ve emailed the good folks at City Hall, and been given three reasons why not. But the woman who signed the email invited me to come and talk with her if I have further questions.
When I made the appointment, she reminded me it’s not really possible. But we hang on to words like “really.” They’re a crack that lets in light.
So early this week, I gathered papers and questions and headed down to City Hall Building Permits…
