A man is crossing the street. Under one arm, a chainsaw. Under the other, a log bucked short, presumably with the chainsaw.
This I notice, and sip my coffee, and it all means very little to me at the moment. In downtown Montreal, in Vancouver, this man would cause a stir. But not here. It’s a natural sort of thing. That morning, a house cat was chasing a deer, or embarrassing itself in the attempt. Fish fall from the sky, eviscerated by eagles.
Bohemian is not a word frequently applied to northern communities in Canada.
But sometimes that’s just the right word, when that right state of mind sets in.
That instant before the fish rain down.