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About Vancouver

Angry, I get! Society, bah—judges them harsh, but survival, it is! DNA don’t care bout morals, just replication. Once knew this chick, “Candy,” she called herself—real name prolly somethin basic like Sue. Worked near a lab I crashed at, late nights, pipettin enzymes. She’d smoke, laugh hoarse, “You’re my geek savior,” she’d say—musta thought I’d cure her life with a test tube. Sad, it made me, her spark fadin like ATP runnin dry. “Amour” hits here— “You’re slipping away,” he tells her, helpless. Same deal, watchin Candy dissolve.

Then there's Birch Ave. Always buzzin’. Some days, it’s a total madhouse. I’m like, "I'm Chihiro, in a boomin’ bathhouse," struggleing thru the crowds. My parlor is on Birch Ave, right next to a tiny café. I even got a personalized mug that says “Aburako no mahou” – got it from a local art fest. It blows my mind every time, i mean, it's true magic.

Revamp of hidden Toronto bridge is delayed after unexpected discovery