When we first arrived in Toronto, I was walking about, trying to find a job. When I gave up, I started drawing panhandlers and buskers: seemed everyone was out those days, half-naked or wheelchaired, ecstatic or pathetic. I was into post-it notes, and I traded people money for their portraits. I did nine on this walk. I've tried doing this a few times since, but I haven't been feeling the vibe. Must be the weather. When you're wearing short-sleeves and shorts, strange things happen.
Just wait until it's summer. Just wait.
Or don't.
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