Read, Scuff — the rest of the story

15 May 2023 – Remember this street corner?

You met it last post, when I started scuffing back into visibility a poetic sentence that began in a loop there on the corner, and then straightened out to run north on St. Geroge.

I read/scuffed/read/scuffed this much:

“Listen the buried stream gurgles its longing to return to daylight & moonlight…”

I ended with three dots, convinced there was more to find, north on St. George, but my scuffing foot was getting cranky. I promised to return, and look for the rest.

And I do!

I walk prudently in shade, in today’s oppressive heat, as laser bursts of sunlight break through the trees’ protective cover.

Back at the St. George / East 11th corner, I discover my scuffing foot will have no excuse for crankiness today: wind seems to have cleared all the litter from the stretch of sidewalk I still want to read.

You see? We are picking up where we left off, with that word “moonlight” closest to my feet.

I walk on.

to nourish





& you

The complete sentence:

“Listen the buried stream gurgles its longing to return to daylight & moonlight to nourish ducks bracken ferns salmonberry & you”

I find this hauntingly beautiful, magical. It brings powerfully to mind an equally anonymous artistic impulse I encountered in Toronto — the Stealth Art Collective — whose tributes i used to find out on Leslie Spit. I am sorry to see that their latest post is dated July 2022.Click on the blog anyway; it is worth the visit.

May the Collective return! And, if it never does, my thanks for all that it added, in words and transient art installations, to the Spit over many years.

Leave a comment


  1. I hate it when blogs I like disappear. I don’t recognise salmonberry, but I can look it up. Great findings.

  2. Thanks for sharing this lovely sidewalk creation with us, Penny. I agree – it’s hauntingly beautiful.


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    "Traveller, there is no path. Paths are made by walking" -- Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

    "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" -- Marcel Proust (1871-1922)

    "A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities" -- Rebecca Solnit, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking"

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