On a crisp spring morning, Bob boarded the ferry to Centre Island, armed with his camera and a cup of strong coffee. His destination? Centreville Amusement Park—a charming, old-school gem nestled among the trees and waterways of Toronto’s island chain. Though the rides weren’t open yet, the park was waking up after a long winter, and Bob was there to capture the stillness before the summer crowds.
First, he wandered over to the log flume ride. The boat, labeled “Centreville,” sat frozen in place, half-submerged in water cascading dramatically over the edge. The sound of rushing water filled the air as Bob snapped a few shots, admiring how the ride looked both abandoned and alive at the same time.
Next, Bob followed the path to the miniature train. The vibrant blue locomotive, proudly flying two Canadian flags, was parked on the tracks with its staff preparing it for the season ahead. “The Centreville Express,” it read. Bob chuckled—it reminded him of old postcards and childhood visits. He gave the crew a nod and took a photo that framed the train against a backdrop of early spring trees.
His last stop was the carousel. Even without the music and motion, the painted horses looked like they were frozen mid-dance, ready to spring to life. Each animal had its own character—snarling lions, wide-eyed pigs, and elegant horses with decorative saddles. Bob lingered here the longest, fascinated by the artistry and the nostalgia it evoked.
As he made his way back toward the ferry, Bob felt like he had stepped through a time warp. Centreville wasn’t just a children’s park—it was a memory machine, quietly spinning its gears until summer returned.
No comments:
Post a Comment