One autumn night while I was walking my dog I saw a golden glow beaming out from behind a leafless bush. It was down low, a basement window as it turned out, and it was covered with an iron gridwork of black swirls that gave it a magical effect. I felt as if I’d stumbled upon some secret portal to an enchanted world. And maybe I had. This past spring when they began replacing old brickwork in the one-hundred-year-old complex where I live and where the window lived, they decided to brick the tiny fenestra over. Another little piece of magic gone. (I never had a chance to shoot that window; the photo above is of a similar fixture at The Ossington in Toronto).
- Who is Bob Hope?