Mike crossed the street and continued walking in a diagonal line along the southern slope of Jeanne Mance Park, feet keeping pace with the sound of his heart beating deep inside his parka. As he cleared the compost fence, the skyscrapers of downtown Montreal appeared ahead, huddling together against the cold. Mike stopped, warm exhale curling under his nose, and looked at his watch.

Another ten minutes and he’d be at the studio. On time.

There was barely anyone out at this hour. At ten past nine on a Sunday morning, this neighbourhood was still mostly asleep. Last night’s cocktails…









Adriana Palanca

Creative Director + writer in Montreal. Functionally weird. Perpetually underestimated. Inadvertently cool.

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