I lived in Toronto for over 15 years. It was only near the end of my stay there that I discovered Leslie Street Spit. This is a manmade island, made from all of the construction refuse that came from old Toronto becoming the Toronto it is today.
There is a sadness about the island when you go there. But also an incredible peace and freedom from the city that lies behind it. The island is made of concrete waste and garbage, but over 50 years life has found its way onto the island.
The island acts as a kind of foil to Toronto, metaphorically speaking: founded from Toronto’s trash, it grew into something beautiful. Toronto discarded its heart and roots into the lake before it - and in its highly perched transformation - lost both it’s history and soul.
It was going to Leslie Street Spit, that I realized that the Toronto was dead, and I needed to leave. The destruction of old brick buildings gave way not to Canadian Utopia, but mere empty glass condos - both physically and spiritually.
R.I.P Toronto.
