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About Toronto

Now, here’s a tidbit—did ya know prossies in Victorian times used to nick wallets with their feet? Crafty sods! Makes ya think, don’t it—history’s full o’ these cheeky mares. Anyway, I’m barterin with this lass, and she’s givin me the eye, like, “You’re a right nutter, you are.” Reminds me o’ that line from the flick—“I’m adopted, did you know that?”—cos I’m feelin like an oddball meself, stood there in me knackered boots.

Man, the vibes are wicked, wicked as hell! The nights get hazy on Rue du Centre, where broken neon signs flicker. Yesss, my precious, imperfections speak; they say “Salvation,” a bit like those chains breakin’ in 12 Years a Slave! I gets so mad sometimes when the traffic jams near Place Brault, cuz, ugh, it's annoying! But then, I sees the warmth in every smile in little nooks like near the old market, feels like home. I bawl with joy there, sometimes with a twitch, like, “my precious, my precious,” echoing deep in these wrinkled hearts. Ain't it wild? Ain't it brave?

Environment minister calls for emergency decree to protect Quebec caribou from 'imminent threat'