Spy Girl

When searching for the first place of my own, I didn't care about square footage, or building amenities, I wanted a balcony.

My current view doesn't sweep across the geometric Toronto skyline, and it doesn't stare at a body of water, or a wild forest. Instead, it faces a narrow alleyway where I can see a sign for a dental office, and a dry cleaner. Adjacent to me are two apartment buildings.

I can see inside other people's lives, while they watch The Toronto Maple Leafs lose win play another hockey game, or as they step outside to smoke a cigarette. I can see people shaking their sheets to make their bed. My view has an Alfred Hitchcock Rear Window kind of feel, minus murder, binoculars and Grace Kelly. I'm not trying to pry, it's just right there.

When I was a kid my hero was Harriet the Spy.

She was always writing things down with her scratchy pencil in her black and white notebook. She observed the world in her own way. She was brave. While Harriet got busted by her friends when they found her notebook, I know better than to have my personal thoughts lying on my kitchen table. Instead, I have password protected word documents. While I do have this blog, I am a very private person. Even after five years of writing, I still struggle with sharing my thoughts and photos publicly.

While I'm not a professional spy, I sometimes dress like one. I also write to figure out my small place in the world. As my favourite writer Joan Didion once said, “I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

I don't know if I'll ever stop.

Photo credits: Stefania Sgambelluri