I'm still in Scarborough. I don't know when I'm leaving. I don't know if I want to leave. I used to say I'd leave and never look back, but Scarborough, you are an anomaly. I have never loved and at the same time hated anything as much as you. It's just the way your Rapid Transit doors get stuck closed in the winter and men with anti-freeze and hockey sticks come and have to beat them open. The way Friday and Saturday nights riding the subway are parties in themseves with the amount of people pre-drinking on their way down town. The way your cops shoot young ruffians, and the way young ruffians shoot your cops. The way you courageously take the blame for all crimes written about in newspapers when we all know they really occured in North York.The way English is a second language on the Lawrence bus next to Hindi. The way part of the "W" of Walmart's sign has burned out and is now spelt the way it's pronounced in an East Indian accent as, "Valmart." The way my bike used to get stolen all the time. And of course, the way people involuntarily back away when I say I'm from scarborough.
This picture comes up when you google Scarborough