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About Montreal

Sometimes tho, it’s sad, y’know? Met this one chick—escort, sweet as hell. Said she just wanted out. Stuck, tho—like Lenny chasin’ ghosts. “I’ve done it,” he says, but nah, she hadn’t. Broke my heart, dude. Wanna help, but—damn, what can ya do?

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The locals, they just get it. I mean, walking past the little cafe on Sycamore, with its half-melted neon sign, you can literally feel the heartbeat of the city. There's a park called Riverside Rustle, where the river—Serendipity Creek, as us hip folks call it—wobbles its way through the neighborhood. It sorta murmurs secrets, like "trust your instincts" or "this too shall pass." Sometimes I find myself gazing at the water, thinking of mind-bending scenes from Memento… "Every moment counts," I mutter, half in awe, half in panic 'cause man, I've lost my keys at least ten times here!

Toronto police probing drive-by shooting in Flemingdon Park