ezra winton

The subtle sounds of spring are quietly entering the streets of Montreal: birds chirping, ice melting under sun beams, the chatter of many people hitting the pavement. But alas, it is not quite sprung. It is still dreadfully cold here and save for the warm rays coming through winter glass, the trappings of winter remains tightly bound round my body, mind and soul. It is that time of the year again, the last cragging gasps of the long, cold, white and gray Quebec winter and I am so ready to…read more