Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Spadina streetcar, on a morning when this didn't happen.

Caucasian male, late 20s, wearing brown cords and a white, v-neck tee. A tiny swirl of chest hair peeks out, the divot of his pecs glistening in the morning sun. 9am and it's already scorching.

An Inconvenient Truth, Al Gore (Rodale)

Page 276:

The fourth and final problem in the way some people think about global warming is the dangerous misconception that if it really is as big a threat as the scientists are telling us it is, then maybe we're helpless to do anything about it so we might as well throw up our hands.

The car comes to a sudden halt, the weight of the passengers, most standing, distributed in a forward-and-back wave of humidity, bodies touching, bodies encased, bags shifting on sweaty shoulders, heels slipping inside dress shoes. They sigh, cursing the driver. Is it the brakes or does he really not know how to control this thing? I mean, how hard can it be?

He looks through the windshield, white knuckling the sides of his padded seat. She's on the ground, fruit spilling from her bags, a lone red bean bun skipping over the tracks. The passengers call up to hurry. We all have places to be.


Wisewebwoman said...

Ah Julie, you catch the whirr and whizz, sweat and steam of the city so well. Good writing, good words and the lovely bump at the end.

Very Julie.

I find it surreal in my environment of an angry eagle out front glaring at less winged creatures and an old steam-boat chugging up the bay.

I'm drunk on the air - fresh and clean as a handkerchief on a clothesline.

And blessed to have this magical soul-harbour.

Julie Wilson said...

How lucky am I that I get to read comments like this? And I was just yesterday messaging with a woman who knows birds, a hawk outside her work window. (Maybe the view is the same, after all.)

Always love it when you stop by.