April in Montreal, we're all very impatient (well, I know I am), longing stable warmth –- all the while vulnerable to colds and viruses, trapped in a fake autumn. It won't be long now. I see it in the mirror, I'll remember my mid-twenties as the time when my body couldn't take as much abuse as it used to, scars have trouble healing, fatigue leaving deeper marks -- apparent aging. In a whole, stress has taken its toll on me... nonetheless I will parade the city-summer as the out-of-place wreck that I am, with deep memories, all inconsequential, on familiar paths with a different face.
