PAT She kept taking off to Mexico because she loved the colors of blue in the decorative tile. Up here in Toronto, she thinks all I have is a few brave souls who paint their houses light yellow or that grey the color of barbeques. That one seems popular right now. Oh wait. The other day I saw a red house screaming out like a fire engine. Was it on Palmerston? Well, wherever it is, congratulations. You've busted right out. In Mexico City she once saw a house that looked like a snail shell. Their couch was nestled in ferns. Houses in electric blue, powder pink. Ensconced in hand made tiles. They imbued her with a restlessness as she walked her usual Toronto streets. Everything here is so damn grey. She combs the streets for any indication. She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees a strange old coach house hiding just beyond some trees and the main house on Gladstone. The owner had whimsically put a weather vane on the top of the roof. For this she is thankful. Follow this blog