Last Saturday, Deb and I decided to take a little detour through downtown Toronto and found ourselves at the old City Court building — the kind of place where echoes of serious justice used to bounce off the walls. Naturally, we couldn't resist playing around.
Deb, always the curious one, immediately climbed into the defendant's booth — complete with plexiglass and a very serious expression. I think she was trying to channel a noir film heroine, especially with the eyepatch and vintage camera around her neck. She looked like she was on trial for stealing hearts and exposing the truth.
Then she made her way to the witness stand, hands on the rail like she was about to testify in the case of the century. I snapped a photo of her under the soft, dusty light — it was all very cinematic. You could almost hear a courtroom drama score in the background.
But the real twist? I, Bob, took the bench as the judge. There I stood delivering justice with a grin. The royal crest behind me gave the whole moment an extra dose of official power. “Order in the court!” I said, mostly to myself, and declared, “Deb is innocent. In fact, she’s lucky today.”
Why lucky? Because she got to walk free — no sentence, just a couple of great photos, and the honour of being judged by Bob in the most unofficial court in the city.
Another unforgettable stop in our photo walk adventures. Justice was served… with a smile.
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