In my wonderings around Toronto this weekend as part of Doors Open, I finally decided to visit a little park I walk past every week on my way home from the CNE stables.

Just visible from the Gardiner, between the railway tracks and Fort York Armories, Stratchan St. and historic Fort York, lies a little patch of greenspace. I’ve never seen anyone there. The wooden stairs leading down from Stratchan St. are covered with warning tape. I followed Garrison Road past some cadets guarding the parking lot.

In the park, surrounded by trees that attempt to mask the highway overhead, there’s a brick wall in which lies the tombstones of the British soldiers and their families that died in the late 1700’s. The stones are worn and broken. To the West, an empty flag mast.

Cars rushed past on the roads above but no one looked down. A cool breeze blew through the field of green grass and dandilions, while a train rushed past to the North behind a thin wall of trees. Time stood still as, in a city of millions, I found myself alone.