Three people attending to a very happy bulldog (with purple-painted nails!) at Woofstock, in Toronto on June 11, 2011.
The morning after the G20 riots, I roamed around a much-quieter downtown Toronto. The Eaton Centre was very empty for a weekend afternoon. And lots of stop-and-searches by police. Taken Sunday, June 27, 2010.
Some photos from the motorcycle show a couple weekends ago in Toronto.
(Oh, right. I did a stupid thing a few months ago and bought a motorcycle. Sorry mom.)
Day of Nose, Atsushi Wada
Sometimes you spend 10 minutes watching a short animated movie that on the surface appears to not have any meaning, but you still come out of it feeling deeply unsettled.
I’ve been working the Toronto Star for almost two years now, and I’ve finally written my first piece for them… a little essay about the joy of foraging for berries in the city.
A pint of serviceberries is however you value an hour’s work. Grasp the branch with one hand, an open plastic bag looped at the wrist. Run your thumb and forefinger down, brushing loose the fruit. Your skin will be purple for days. Graze on the ripest berries — they’ll turn to mush on the trip home anyway. The sun will be hot. You’ll wipe your sweaty brow with your sticky hands, which only makes the whole situation worse. The berries last a fleeting day or two, so eat them while you can. The window of ripeness always falls around Canada Day, a fitting occasion to celebrate this very Canadian plant.