I've discovered the wonders of Victoria Street; it stretches from the bottom of Front Street up to Dundas. The shops, theatres and mom-and-pop restaurants along the way are a welcome change from the billboards and chaos of Yonge, just one block west.
This morning I passed a barber shop. I watched as the shopkeeper, an elderly middle-eastern man, shaved a customer's beard. He used an old-style blade which reminded me of an old movie—a silver screen shot of a former NYC enclave.
Later on my walk I pass a group of actors. They sit on the curb as they wait to gain access to the Canon Theatre’s back doors. Each one of them holds a coffee cup in hand reciting their lines. As my walk comes to an end at Olympic Spirit, I realize I myself had just gone through Yonge Street's back door.
This morning I passed a barber shop. I watched as the shopkeeper, an elderly middle-eastern man, shaved a customer's beard. He used an old-style blade which reminded me of an old movie—a silver screen shot of a former NYC enclave.
Later on my walk I pass a group of actors. They sit on the curb as they wait to gain access to the Canon Theatre’s back doors. Each one of them holds a coffee cup in hand reciting their lines. As my walk comes to an end at Olympic Spirit, I realize I myself had just gone through Yonge Street's back door.
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