November in Toronto
Published in
1 min readNov 22, 2015
It’s that time of year again.
The imperceptible days between the vibrant light of autumn and the flush of winter are the worst for me. The biting freeze has not yet settled; a few red and orange leaves still hang onto branches needingly, whispering: I don’t want to go yet.
It always startles me — though it shouldn’t, it happens every year — how 5 p.m. in Toronto looks in November, so damn grey and so damn sad. There are no less people walking around. No less cars honking at cyclists. No less of anything really, except for the sun.
It’s not the end of a season that I fear, but the feeling that an end is coming. It’s the in-between that grips me; the transition I don’t like.
The point from A to B.
