Leaning against the rooming house he looks like he stepped off the bus from Calgary. Wide brimmed hat and boots, a tasseled leather jacket and faded blue jeans. But this isn’t the corner for rustling cattle. And the way he eyes men in cars, I don’t think he knows a thing about horses.
Lovers in swan shaped boats paddle along the canal. The late afternoon sun shimmers on the surface. Hordes of people wander the banks in various states of undress. They walk dogs and hold hands and hurriedly eat ice cream before it drips down the cone. Simple pleasures cure the lives we lead.
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