The Mud and the Rain: Anita Lahey’s letter to her old neighbourhood
I was walking through Parc Lafontaine one late spring evening when I first decided that, by some magnificent stroke of luck, I had moved to a kind of paradise. All about me people were sprawled on blankets eating picnic dinners and drinking tumblers-full of wine. Somewhere down the path a guy was beating drums. A man carried a child on his shoulders. The evening light caught the water spraying from the fountain in the heart of pond. Walkers paused on a footbridge to take in the scene. Small groups gathered under trees played and sang. A tightrope walker had tied a long rubbery rope between two trees; standing atop it, he gripped it with his toes, spread his arms and swayed. Deeper into the park games of Frisbee, bocce ball, volleyball and soccer were underway. This was the kind of park that I had come to think existed only in storybooks. Yet here it was, not a 10-minute walk from my new apartment, a giant backyard for thousands of people, heavily and variously and happily used. (more…)




