It feels uniquely satisfying, escaping the suburbs and slipping anonymously into the Toronto subway. Three dollar tokens, worn red seats and newspapers strewn on the floor, the trains are a time capsule from the seventies. I am meeting up with my cousin Christina, a born and bred Torontonian and my guide for the afternoon. At Bathurst station the cold becomes apparent as I step outside, waiting by the throng of bicycles underneath its concrete canopy. Our rendezvous is the Annex, a hip, bohemian …
Love exploring Toronto, even though I’ve lived here all my life, it’s always changing ;o
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