Oh, Hi, Yo!
Last night's Nuit Blanche was a pleasent experience. I maintain reservations about touristical pamphlets overwrought with details and itineraries, but, hey, mad chicken livers to this city for pouring a buttery citizen sauce into the streets for proper post-midnight sauteeing.
Personal favs include: the li'l chillins skootchin around with flashing red cycling lights pinned to their lapels; multiple socializing tent sites whose entrance flaps smack with high school prom flare; the sheer odds of meeting those who were met; an empty stall in the Gladestone Washroom; the absolutely perfect rhythm duo who performed in the circular stadium Grange Park installation thingy.
I started some photoshop pieces tonight, but this weary eyenook (a venerable, plodding Anklyosaur shuddering under an extended four-year forced servitude to the author) gave out.
No save, no pics. Score one for that unspeakable nethervoid tydying the rugs between system crash and reboot.