The papers left on the window ledge of a restaurant in Alexandria speak of another universe. They evoke a strange poetry that smells of printer’s ink: The Sens Brass club declares it is not satisfied with last year’s success and promises to take the next step Walk or run for Ottawa’s animals At Cornwall Tire Service, our “teammates” in sales Nineteen seventy-eight – nineteen seventy-nine, the Cornwall Major Midget’s September real estate guide Cumberland Street East, Cornwall, three hundred seventy-five thousand dollars From little legs to iron will The Cornwall Triathlon unites generations – Jackson, André, five years old, Sports Energy News All of this speaks of Ontarian convolutions, beyond the cornfields, the hockey seasons, beyond the dairy farms and the bustling of small towns, like islands of freshness, of people, of families, of family businesses, like echoes of exotic songs in the undergrowth, like a jumble of old sorrows interwoven with lace, in the cedar jewelry box at grandmother’s house.
