The first day of my birthday month! But I'm typing this on the last day of what might be my new favourite month in Toronto. I feel something new is happening between me and this city... a new level of feeling at home here.

When I lived in Dublin, there was occasionally a sense of discovery. I lived there a long time before I discovered the Iveagh Gardens, the Chester Beatty. Some things are ignored because they're right under your nose. Some things are forgotten because all the paths are familiar.

When you move to a new city, you hunt. You hunt for spots to become your new favourites. You dissect the city in a way a person born here is unlikely to do. You don't want to be caught unknowing. You amass. You press your nose against every window, thinking this place might be my new home. Or this. Or this.

And then after a long while (in my case, years) you finally stop hunting. You have your places, you have your home. And it's then that you can again be surprised by discoveries. And though you may think there can't possibly be any, that you've turned over every rock, the city has held something back from you, something that you only get when you stop searching and just look in a different way, without hungry eyes.

Tonight, the moon is in front of my window and I feel that this month, this age I'll turn in June, is a big one. I wanted everything to be perfect now, so that none of it could hurt me. But, of course, that was just one of my silly fantasies. Instead, I feel a strange letting go. In the same way I've loosened by grasp on the city, I've loosened my grasp on myself.

And so I feel, suddenly, like there might be all kinds of happy discoveries around the corner.

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