Dirty Dundas

Dear Dundas, I won’t miss you. With your abandoned storefronts, scarred with unimaginative graffiti and decades-old grit. With your grimy little shops and litter-strewn steps and old signs that swing from half-hinged frames. With your cheap haircuts in dingy salons, your grotty bars that resist resuscitation. I want to warm to your dirty charm, but it disarms me.

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