In Montreal spring is like an autopsy. Everyone wants to see the inside of the frozen mammoth. Girls rip off their sleeves and the flesh is sweet and white, like wood under green bark. From the streets a sexual manifesto rises like an inflating tire, “the winter has not killed us again!
Montréal, the largest city in Québec, set on an island in the Saint Lawrence River and named after Mount Royal, the triple-peaked hill at its heart..
this is the first time I was ever in a city where you couldn’t throw a brick without breaking a church window