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| - I do not know what it is about Kensington Market that affects me so.
Perhaps it's the abundance of vintage everything filling the air of the streets, from used clothing, to the music that floats out of the shops, to just the vintage-esque atmosphere itself. Or perhaps it is the people swarming the streets beneath the sweltering sun; beautiful people consisting of locals, girls with bleached out long wavy hair, an elderly man sitting outside watching everyone, the store owners.
Maybe it's even the memories stored in my head from previous times I've frequented Kensington, the times spent here, but one thing is clear to me: Kensington Market submerses me within an indescribable feeling that I crave. A feeling of satisfaction, safety, summer, and the city itself. Something, like I said, that I cannot describe or pinpoint.
It has not failed these past weeks that when I'm getting real down in the city, if I walk myself over to Kensington Market, it cheers me up remarkably. It is a longish walk, and I always anticipate walking down Augusta from College, or Baldwin from Spadina, into the depths of this wonderful place.
The sun always feels warmer beating down upon me in Kensington, the coffee seems to taste better, and my mood is quite obviously elevated when I am spending time in these few streets.
It is always sad to leave Kensington, it is almost as if I entering reality again, leaving behind my safety net. Kensington does not feel like reality to me, and maybe that's the magic behind the secret of its charm. Upon entering Kensington, I feel as though I am leaving behind reality, even if only for a few hours, to enter my safe haven of these few eclectic, unique and wonderful streets.
Thank you Kensington for aiding me in maintaining my sanity these last few weeks.
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