The dull cliffs of the Scarborough Bluffs slash up against the crashing waves of Lake Ontario, revealing many shades of the uninteresting colour grey. Held in place only temporarily, the steady beating of the waters plough into the exposed earth, caressing the side of the vertical face with an even mixture of love and contempt while washing the guilt away, along with the fine sand and sending it on an journey of growth towards the Toronto Islands. When a storm rises up it drives the lake waters into powerful crests which whip the hills into submission as they stand shackled to the rest of the city, unable to escape, until they remain spent and crumble into the lake.
Chapter Two. If you are lucky the sky, water and trees can complement the view of the otherwise stark nature of the bluffs. Like the day a few years ago when I dropped by on a lovely fall day. The end.
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