When they met, dad’s face was supersized among the exhilarating cacophony of blinking cosmopolitan space-age advertorial madness that is the universe of Tokyo billboards, part of the city’s seizuring fabric. My parents got engaged in a parked car and then immediately backed into a lamppost. The first five minutes of their relationship summarizes its totality.
When I get older people will state facts about my neighbourhood I never considered while I was there, which, I guess, is privilege. But their word associations don’t ring true. To me, it’s just about endless walking, a lot of sky. The swallows that careened though the air all summer. One flew in through my bedroom window, and another was dead on the pavement with a fat beetle on its iridescent body when I rustled out of bramble back to a serene suburban street. The sky was alive with them, but now I hear their populations are plummeting in the Metro Vancouver area – true headline.