Clifford: Toronto

An awakening to move as a young adult, from what has been my home, a home where leaves remain green all year, to a new home where leaves form rainbows of colour each Fall. A colour-bow that crunched underfoot and was given voice by breezes. To a place where water can form musical icicles on leafless branches once Fall gives way to Winter. This path through woods, in an archipelago of islands surrounded by fresh clear lakes, in a vast wilderness that is my Canada, reminds me not only of beautifully quilted spaces, but of the eerie sounds of loons through the trees and I imagine them moving, with only the faintest wakes, across a still lake.