Nightfall hits us at 5pm. And yet here we are, strolling the Quartier des Spectacles without a scarf, gloves or a warm jacket. What a strange November. So full of indian summers.
They’ve rebuilt everything since I was last here. Giant illuminated structures now straddle Jeanne-Mance like disembodied spider legs. There are eyes everywhere, blinking & transfixed, on massive video screens that transform passersby into bit players, accessories on a set. It’s all decor.
We will hear music tonight. The MSO is playing Bach.
We will remember our humanity.