The economy cannot count on me. I'm past the age of acquisitiveness. I cannot afford my taste in personal adornment. My art budget is zero. I prefer my own cooking (most times) to restaurant fare. Books. Ah well, I do regularly make an exception for independent booksellers.
But mostly, when I go to town, I wander, looking above the line of artistic shop fronts and BOGO enticements, getting in the way of real shoppers on a mission.
I shop for built heritage. And thanks to my trusty Canon, I bring home plenty.
I browse for interesting details that I recognize from my study, or for puzzling bits that send me back to my bookshelf. And for that sense of travelling back in time to when life was lived in this 1850 stone store, or that 1890 house...that feeling I call resonance.
And I firmly believe that consciously or no, the reason people find shopping along Princess Street, or Walton Street in Port Hope, or in smaller spots like Bloomfield or Kleinburg so appealing, is that the treasure-filled shops are all the more inviting for being housed in beautifully preserved historic buildings.
Funny how cities and towns still don't get that.
I'm still busy unpacking all the treasures I brought home.
Just wanted to share some Kingston with you.
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