You are a beauty.

Montreal is in a state of being.  Being beautifully on edge, charmingly sad, flawlessly imperfect, playfully proud, constantly in love and unmistakably real. The city is more like an open playground than a secure indigenous cradleboard. You get to stretch like a tree, jump like an antelope, get hurt, recover or remain broken. Montreal is the ultimate transitional space where the reality and phantasies negotiate, form and reform. When the bagel seller tells you that the bagel you just purchased is as hot as its maker, you know the city flirts like a charming old gentlemen who happens to look like Leonard Cohen.  When you see the tiny cream cheese tubs being neatly displayed in the fridges of St-Viateur and Fairmount, you know the city recognises and honours harmless human impulses and desires. Hence, the bagel devouring people outside the bagel shops, standing or sitting, have become part of the city scenery. It has nothing to do with elegance but pure satisfac...