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Randomness of Nuit Blanche included dangerous-looking cars sneaking up on us, graffiti alleys, mayors and cows on bikes, teaching a plant the alphabet, unexpected BILLBOARDS and finding evidence of our own existence on the Internet the next day (I am wearing bright blue). Not all of that was supposed to be a part of the event, but it worked.

I should note that I was in the whole thing for randomness, not for art as such, because I mostly don't know what to make of, say, balloons with flashlights. I was also in it for watching people and maybe learning to like Toronto again. The last bit worked only so much. I do have moments of intense admiration for the city - seeing buildings disappear in thick fog, catching the color skyscrapers turn at dusk (against that fleeting blue of the sky...) - but I had none of them that night. The things I saw were not about the city. Lower Bay would've been, I think, but I didn't get to go there. There was the White Line Light; I liked it, but there was something missing. A purpose, maybe, the kind that you feel when you stand under a wind turbine at night and listen to it change gears. Functional beauty.

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