Ghost Catcher

As autumn weaves its chilling tale, there stands a tree outside the Amsterdam Brewery on Laird Drive, Toronto, whose shimmering cloak of gold, is being slowly stripped away by the cold sharp winds and rain. Exposing first its barren branches, sinister and contorted, they rise like the desperate fingers of one nearing their final breath, seeking solace from the impending dark. But instead of grasping a fleeting moment of life, in a twist of urban irony, they’ve not secured a fragment of life’s essence but rather a ghostly plastic bag — a mute witness to our age’s follies.