I've spent a few hours with friends I haven't seen in decades. The air hangs thick as freshly poured asphalt — Montreal can get as hot as it can be cold. I walk back to the car amidst throngs of tourists, under an impending storm, the sky flickering and flashing nervously, a low menacing rumble in the distance.
I barely make it.
I pick up the camera and aim haphazardly at the world outside my bubble — a hand on the wheel, an eye on the screen.