Design Flaw

Every morning, on my way to school, I have to walk across Mont Royal.
Every morning, I walk down Rue St. Urbain and I stop at the red light next to Beauty's Lunchonette.
Whenever there is a break in traffic, I step into the street.

I am an expert Jaywalker.

As I move through the intersection, I look to my left, right down the centre of the road.
It's quite a view.

The Olympic stadium, Montréal's most spectacular failure, is perfectly framed by an endless busy commercial stretch. As I was walking up the mountain, towards the graveyard the other night (which you can read about here) I caught another perfect glimpse of it, this time surrounded by trees and expensive Outremont homes.

It is probably Montréal's most easily recognizable landmark. Like some kind of tusk jutting out of the city, or perhaps a giant deformed question mark. It is so iconic that I've even seen photographs of people who have it as a tattoo.

Last summer, I used to keep a notebook in my back pocket. Red cover, black coil; mead. It flipped vertically. I wrote many things, I filled it up after three months. Dozens of drunken scrawls, song lyrics, images. One such page read:

July 8th, 1:26 am

After three pints,
The Olympic Stadium tattoo makes sense.


Montréal, I'm smitten.
Even your flaws are adorable.