Finally. The first day after I-do-not-remember-how-much time without feeling the need to wear my cap-and-scarf kit. That Sunday Parc la Fontaine was crowded, although the prevailing color was still brown. The warm sun and the barren surface were emerging from the last layers of snow that was melting because of the desire of the people around there to enjoy that day, rather than the temperature. I almost could not remember what sitting on a bench with some friends making a BBQ meant. I felt like a huge bear waking up from its hibernation, surrounded by other animals that suddenly come out from their burrows. Time to tide it up, time to clean it up again. Spring cleaning.

Monday morning. The beginning of a new week in front of the roadworks on Sherbrooke. Waiting for the traffic light to get green, looking at the workers blessing the sun and the (finally arrived) good weather. Remembering how they digged that hole the first time in November, closed it up and then opened it again a couple of months ago. They were filling it up again, hiding dirt with soil, soil with dirt.

It was not a really busy day. Students were enjoying the sunshine, chilling on the rock steps outside the McGill buildings. Amazing picture, conjunction of stillness, peace and dinamism. A guy lying on the first step, leaning on his right bent arm, looking up, his eyes covered by dark sun glasses, one leg bent, the other relaxed and stretched along his body. Girls just sitting on two steps lower, looking at each other, alternating smiles with worried facial expressions, their phones in their right hand, their final schedule in the left one. People standing all around the entrance of the building, laughing, talking, laughing, pointing at each other, saying hello, goodbye, have a good day, motionless looking at a point on a piece of paper or a stone wall beside them.

Finally getting home and seeing painters at work on the external wall of a building.
“Hey Joe! Shouldn’t we clean the surface before putting another layer of paint?”
“Sure Paul! Go ahead!”
“Are you kidding me? You’re painting it already.”
“Than grab that brush and help me out man.”
“Ok, but the old paint will come out later. I’m telling you!”
“Yes, but it will be hidden until then.”
Hiding dirt with soil, soil with dirt.

Banner Image by @aleksbud // @gradlifemcgill