So I’m homeless and unemployed and it feels alright.
Why, you might ask? Because I’ve left Toronto. I have only the vaguest idea of where I’m going at the moment — I’ve been bouncing between various couches in several cities and provinces and the spare room at my mother’s place in rural New Brunswick for several months — but it’s a done deal. I’m not coming back this time. It hurts to leave the town I’ve called home for 27 years and all the deep personal and professional connections I’ve forged there. Make no mistake, though; I’ll live longer because of it. Toronto was killing me.
A lot of memories reside amidst the decline.
I find myself wondering what it will be like to pack up and leave TO.
My reasons are familiar to readers, this Star piece is more a personal lifestyle lament that ignores the real reasons for the decay of Toronto into 3rd World status.
