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I was on the way to the hair-dresser.

I was in a once-industrial-zone, transformed – still transforming, really – into upscale condos, offices  and restaurants.  One building seems abandoned, another mid-construction, and another is post-reno and ready for an update.

It was a grey day.

A bunch of movie trucks were on one side of the avenue, using all the parking spots.  I love the movies, so I couldn’t, wouldn’t really, complain.

And, there I am, in the midst of this concrete chaos, parked a few blocks from the salon, walking along this alienating stretch of street, when something catches my eye.  A small detail in the midst of large-scale everything – a bit of colour, something pretty, something sweet. Tiny, purple flowers draped over the edge of a concrete wall.

Simple.  Beautiful.

A gift.

A sign of life.

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