A tinge of green is finally appearing on local trees. Toronto’s cherry blossoms are at their peak. I soldier through strong winds to High Park to catch a glimpse. Picnickers dine under swaying branches of delicate pink blossoms. I walk past with thoughts of the recent earthquake and subsequent
tsunami: sakura represents fleeting life and mortality.
I continue my quest for good food. Vena’s makes a mean roti, but the spot is so messy that even I opt for takeout.
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