We start at the James Street Feed Company. Chris and I are having a beer and watching hockey on the television. Chris is telling me about his adventures in the Republic of Georgia. We reminisce about his place in Chambésy where I lived for a month while Chris was back in Canada on his annual leave. We compare notes on the University of Guelph Library where Chris worked before taking a job with the UN. We debate the relative merits of hockey players, football players and baseball players as athletes.
Audrey and Jorge are hosting the annual street party a couple of blocks further west. The unicorn and I sit to listen to the local musicians for a while.
203 James Street. Danuszia is painting in the room over the garage that she uses as a studio. Danuszia is a magical woman. She emanates colour throughout the world. Her painting is a natural byproduct of her unique spirit.
My wife is somewhat obsessed with absolute darkness when she sleeps. She has taped heavy black fabric on the bedroom window. But there is a pinhole of light that creates a camera obscura on the ceiling. My wife and I are lying on our backs this morning watching the cars and pedestrians pass by on the street outside. The projected images are in full colour. “Look,” I say, “it’s a red car.”
I lied about the unicorn. The unicorn was never on James Street.