I recently returned to Toronto from the UK to spend the sweet, hot months of summer in my Motherland. The most cherished time of the year that all Canadians live for, have valiantly earned, yet still, actively bitch about. It is why we endure the harsh brutal cold of winter, excavating our cars from under a heavy slab of snow like some archeological dig. Running our white numb fingertips under hot water to regain the use of our hands. We more than any other people have earned every minute of every day that the sun is beating down on our pale white Canadian skins.
So when I had to spend 14 days in quarantine in the height of summer I found it way harder and more like a psychological experiment. Like I was trapped in a bad episode of Black Mirror.
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