With new developments consistantly springing up in Toronto, the city landscape is in a constant state of flux. There are no "good" or "bad" areas of town anymore. How safe I feel in this city literally comes down to a particular block or building.
Earl Street is the ultimate in good block/bad block. The street runs perpendicular to Jarvis and Sherbourne. It is lined with lilac trees and new townhouses next to archaic homes with lush gardens, but connects with two of the rougher streets in my neighbourhood.
Pedestrian traffic is high--the street is not a through-way--which affords an eclectic mix of walkers. You are just as often to see a homeless person meandering on the sidewalk as you are a man in an expensive suit with a briefcase in tow.
On Saturday the street was buzzing with people lining up for an afternoon wedding at the corner church. An elderly gentleman swayed in his rocking chair from his front porch watching the constant stream of guests in fall dresses and dark-coloured suits. A woman crossed the street to her townhouse and wrestled to get her bulging three-piece luggage set up the stairs to her porch. A man peered out from the depths of his navy hood as he walked toward Sherbourne with his hands jammed into the pockets of his soiled jogging pants.
Earl Street is like a microcosm of Toronto. It is a mix of old and new, poor and affluent, derelict and delicately beautiful.
Earl Street is the ultimate in good block/bad block. The street runs perpendicular to Jarvis and Sherbourne. It is lined with lilac trees and new townhouses next to archaic homes with lush gardens, but connects with two of the rougher streets in my neighbourhood.
Pedestrian traffic is high--the street is not a through-way--which affords an eclectic mix of walkers. You are just as often to see a homeless person meandering on the sidewalk as you are a man in an expensive suit with a briefcase in tow.
On Saturday the street was buzzing with people lining up for an afternoon wedding at the corner church. An elderly gentleman swayed in his rocking chair from his front porch watching the constant stream of guests in fall dresses and dark-coloured suits. A woman crossed the street to her townhouse and wrestled to get her bulging three-piece luggage set up the stairs to her porch. A man peered out from the depths of his navy hood as he walked toward Sherbourne with his hands jammed into the pockets of his soiled jogging pants.
Earl Street is like a microcosm of Toronto. It is a mix of old and new, poor and affluent, derelict and delicately beautiful.
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