Halifax

For the last few weeks, I've had one thing consistently nagging at my head. It distracts me from my school work, makes my mind wander when I'm eating food, makes me feel discontent with where I am and lets me fantasize about flying away somewhere.

I want to live at the hostel, sit in the downstairs cafe with my feet up, read a book and sip iced chai latte. I'd work at Alteregos, the cafe and used bookstore in one, and earn my living by making Michelle's bagels (with cream cheese, tomatoes, sprouts and avocado) and serving organic coffee and those yummy chai lattes. On my days off, I'd take long walks by the shore followed by a meal of fish n' chips or quiche at the marketpplace, and then I'd sit and cross stitch by the ocean. The salty sea-air would whip through my hair and make my skin sticky. I'd go to the art gallery for free on Thursdays, see parades of men in kilts playing bagpipes, and walk everywhere. I'd never eat at McDonalds. I'll inherit a boat and go out into the ocean where I'll see seals, whales and lots of buoys. I'll pretend to go fishing, but really, I'll just be sunbathing. When I crave tea, I'll frequent the little chinese shop over there and have some of their lapsang souchong, or some peach green tea at a cafe by the water. I'll shop at Cow's, have some yummy ice cream and spend lots of money on funny cow products. I'll be surrounded by seafood, but I won't eat any lest I spend the night throwing it all up. I'll dance with giant puppets on the boardwalk, put flowers in my hair and get picked up at the casino by old, creepy men. I'll go to the used bookstore, tuck myself away in a corner and read all of my childhood favourites. I'll talk to strangers. All the time. About Robertson Davies, the municipal government, their business, their hopes and dreams. And I'll tell them that when I was 19 years old, I spent a week in Halifax and dreamed about living there ever since.

I'm so in love.

This makes me sad.

5:31 pm