Such a Space

There's nothing like going someplace to shake the sensation you're going nowhere. The open road might be a bit of an illusion, but I've sure seen a lot of it these past couple months. I'm nearing the end of a book tour that's taken me east to Windsor, northeast to Truro, south to Bridgewater, southwest to Liverpool, and plenty of stops nearer home. Today brought me to busy downtown Halifax, the only true city in my homeland, telling tales from my new book of abandoned roads at Patagonia. Every time I'm in such a space, I'm reminded of the old Stan Rogers song "Down the Road", which goes: "To a city to sing about the trees and the wind". I've gotten quite used to being the only one around, so despite having no dislike for company, I'm not naturally drawn to the concept of thousands in all directions. A different version of me may have found himself a real recluse, if a best-selling book and unexpected wealth resulted in no need to socialize. But I've turned out much more working class, finding value in making temporary friends of perfect strangers. It really started in my time as a busker, writing live poems on the street — and my years as an art gallery owner, a wedding photographer, and currently as a travelling storyteller. No need to hide today. That's what tomorrow is for.

June 26, 2025
Avonport, Nova Scotia

Year 18, Day 6437 of my daily journal.