Here's the city at it's most raw, most dangerous, most thrilling. For this I escaped the idiocy of rural living. I took a walk, and this is what I saw.
In my search for the soul of the city, I saw school busses playing hookey.
I saw a warehouse in which boxes and bales and barrels brought from all points of the world came to rest on shelves so men could break them down into parts and parcels to mete out to the masses, goods and favors.
I delved deep into the vortex of the city, finding in my journey an abandoned cement mixer.
This high wuthering height of Humanness, so far from the storm blasted heath of my youth, it makes me proud that we withstand.
It's adventurous, it's dangerous, its a Dag Day in the big city, I do think so.
The other day I looked up and saw another grey sky; being human I began to grumble but I was quick enough to catch myself in mid-breath and strangle my ingratitude it in its lair.
Reading about the storms and awful winters that so many other cities have had this season, seeing all the awful pictures of other people's blizzards and snow drifts on television since last November, makes me all too aware that we really don't have much to complain about here in Vancouver, when it comes to the weather.
It's no wonder that so many residents simply go outside and stand around. I can hardly believe our luck myself... 
