Rolling green hills, an enchanted forest, or an old library heavy with the perfume of leather and aging books. Perhaps a tavern, or an old theatre?
Somewhere entirely fantastical where monkeys drink tea and the birds recite poetry.
You can go anywhere really. You decide.


As you approach the front door, it’s preemptively opened by a tall, debonair fox. He tips his hat and smiles. “Welcome dears, my name is Cedric. We’ve been waiting for you.”
He bows slightly, opening the door more widely and says, “Please come in, and stay a while.”


A kingdom of exquisite green awaits, where gentry venture to see and be seen. 
However, decorum often wanes amongst the flirty fronds, and mischief 
entwines itself imperceptibly amongst even the most furtive libertine.


Rabbits are not to be trifled with. Ambitious and determined creatures, they are intolerant of those who dilly-dally. However, that persistence when applied to the pursuit of pleasure is equally impressive.


“ Why are you sad?” I ask.
“The moon is setting. The Dawn is coming, she will take my wings and I will once again be a girl.”


Who could blame the constellations for the occasional squabble? Andromeda likes room to stretch her legs, while Cassiopeia prefers to ponder in isolation. Ursa Major is highly competitive, and Ursa Minor, well.. it’s rather delicate.


If I were a mythical deity I’d likely wander through an idyllic gardenscape, while cavorting with water sprites in a shimmering pond nearby. Mere mortals would never be granted permission to inhabit such an unearthly realm. Fortunately Dears, you’re traveling with me!


Light is by far the finest artist there is. Depending on her mood, she can fashion the most alluring of tableaus or the most malevolent. She is changeable however, and prone to bouts of melancholy so it's wise to assume that her compositions will change. Regularly.


A fine tweed and a silk ascot are considered genteel, a feathered cap and riding boots, rugged and jaunty.  But a tailcoat and tie will silence one and all when it comes to dignity, influence and savoir faire.


The African Violet is deeply envious of the Blue Passion Flower. No one really knows what's behind such nonsense. Apparently it all began on a particularly humid evening so long ago that the precise date has faded into myth. Nonetheless, the Protea and Orchid have forged an alliance to restore harmony, the chances of success remain dubious, but I tend to stay out of such quarrels, flowers are notoriously dramatic.


My favourite artists are also some of my favorite people. Rembrandt loves to play practical jokes, Vermeer loves to hide unexpected treasures in untoward places. I enjoy the pantomime and feign surprise, because I adore them, and because I also happen to be rather fond of hexapods.


Around the corner and past the marble arch to your right, is a small, charming park with a fountain that will delight. You will not have any trouble finding me dear, much like any other day I’ll be hiding in plain sight.
Original painting of Toronto’s Wellington Street, Circa 1890 by our CCO Shelley Weinreb.



The stairway to Mars is too crowded in June. I prefer to journey by comet. A tad less opportune perhaps, but the view is sublime.
Original painting by our CCO Shelley Weinreb inspired by a conversation she had with her then 8 year old son. In the conversation they were discussing the distance they love each other “I love you to the moon and back”. “I love you to the moon and back to earth, then to Mars, and Venus and Jupiter, and then back to the earth and then out into outer space”. he replied. So Shelley decided to chart that map in a painting, now called the Cosmic mural.


Whiskey and Vanilla make perfect bedfellows. Velvety smooth, covertly rich and always a distinctly provocative pair. It would be impossible to imagine Whiskey with any other companion, unless, of course, you consider Smoke.


Appropriate attire is of paramount importance. Greys are reserved for Mondays and lavender is well suited to Wednesdays. However, regarding the matter of a top hat...I consider mine indispensable, even with pajamas.


Something peculiar begins to emerge as the Light shifts and flutters in the coquettish way she does. The familiar shuffling of tiny feet whisper almost imperceptibly as they retreat into the eosphere.  Diaphanous wings unfurl slowly in anticipation. I know what you're thinking.. is the spell about to be broken? Of course not dear, that's utterly impossible.


There once was a time when Glamour ruled the day, and owned the night. When gentlemen razzled and ladies dazzled. The champagne flowed freely and smoke lingered like wispy clouds under a ceiling of gilded stars.
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