Took a walk along the beach. The sand was groomed earlier in the day by municipal crews. The water met the shoreline in a meek act of surrender as lake shores often do. To my left the post-war urban skyline of a modest city of around two hundred thousand.Mostly people who made their living somewhere else. Further down the shoreline, much further the faint outline of a true metropolis. It's iconic tower etched out in shades of blue and grey. From here it's hard to know that three million people are stuffed inside its borders. The beach, well it has it's issues shall we say. Every hundred meters or so, scarecrow like stand hydro towers and behind them the roar of the highway that stands on pillars above the fray becomes the sound bath of the moment. Still, there's something here. The expansive girth of Lake Ontario stretches far and somehow makes the compromise worthwhile. The say that the language of God is silence. Perhaps, but even with the din of our back and forth live to work lives there can be comfort in the child like waves, the sky above and the play of sand between your toes. A chevron of Cormorants flies by, a dog makes sand angels and in the parking lot a parking officer folds a 47 dollar ticket under my windshield wiper. Spring has sprung.