Union Station...

To The Lady on the Train,

If you spend any amount of time in Union station, you learn that the building has its own life. The people move in flows and waves with a rhythm and pulse dictated by this great beast... It is like being caught in the belly of a whale, the arched ceiling both amplifying echoed sound and muffling it..  The rumble and clang of unseen trains as they pull into and out of the station - anticipated and fearful.. They sound like creaking bones and you almost expect the whole place to slowly roll over..

You are never physically alone in Union Station, nor are you present with the crowd. We are all simply caught up like so many krill. It is ironic how one can find solitude among the waves of people moving through this station - but it is why I come here...

This station anchors the city - it is the push-pin that holds Toronto in its place against Lake Ontario. Commuters from bedroom communities and travellers off to farther destinations ebb and flow thorough here. I am comforted by the rhythms of traffic and noise and the breath of the place. She isn't young any more and she has changed over the years... but the bones of her are still strong and grand..

In a quieter corner, a slow observer amid the throb, waiting... The Man in the Station.