Bob at the Etobicoke Civic Centre for Remembrance Day 2025

Marking 80 Years Since the End of the War in Europe

It was a cold, bright morning when Bob arrived at the Etobicoke Civic Centre for the Remembrance Day ceremony — the 80th anniversary of the end of the Second World War in Europe. Fresh snow still lined the paths, and fallen leaves mixed with the frost, creating a solemn yet peaceful scene.

Bob had been to many ceremonies over the years, but this one felt especially significant. Eighty years — a milestone that reminds us how far we’ve come and how much we owe to those who served.

He watched as veterans took their places, medals glinting in the weak November sunlight. One veteran, standing proudly in her blue blazer, raised a crisp salute as a singer at the podium and sang O'Canada. Behind her, a piper in a red tartan kilt stood quietly, her breath visible in the cold air, preparing to play the haunting notes of the “Lament.”

Community leaders stepped forward to speak. Their words echoed through the crisp air — gratitude, remembrance, and a call to preserve peace for the next generations. The crowd stood silently, poppies pinned to their coats, as the bugle call of the “Last Post” sounded across the square. Even the city noise seemed to pause.

Bob took photographs of the cadets standing guard, motionless and composed, their heads bowed. He captured the moment where wreaths were laid — one after another — their purple ribbons and bright red poppies forming a sea of remembrance at the base of the cenotaph. 

He ended his morning photographing a single wreath against the snow. The poppies stood out sharply, their red petals vibrant against the white — a symbol of life and sacrifice that still speaks powerfully after eight decades. With the message “Lest We Forget.”

For Bob, these photos weren’t just documentation; they were quiet stories — of duty, loss, and the promise of never forgetting.

 

My Flickr album of today's photos.

Flickr Album

 

Bob’s Lane way Project: A Toronto Story in 900 Frames

For more than a decade, Bob has been wandering through the hidden arteries of Toronto — not the bustling main streets or the postcard landmarks, but the narrow lane ways tucked between old brick houses, small garages, and overgrown fences. What started as a small side project has quietly grown into something much larger — a visual archive of the city’s backstreets and changing character.

At the start of this year, Bob had just over 800 lane ways of photos. Now, as the year winds down, his collection has passed 900. Each one captures a different kind of urban poetry — cracked pavement, graffiti-covered walls, vines climbing red brick, or a lone figure walking toward the city’s glass towers in the distance.

“Every lane way has its own rhythm,” Bob likes to say. “Some are silent and forgotten. Others buzz with delivery trucks, murals, and morning light bouncing off the buildings.”

Bob doesn’t rush these shots. He often revisits the same alleys years later, finding new textures or signs of transformation. A fresh mural might bloom where a blank wall once stood. A tree might stretch higher, a new condo might cast longer shadows.

To Bob, these lane ways are where Toronto reveals its soul — a blend of old grit and new energy. They’re places where you can still see the bones of the past city, framed by the glass reflections of what it’s becoming.

His goal for next year? To cross the 1,000 mark — not for numbers’ sake, but as a way to document one thousand small stories of how Toronto evolves behind the scenes.

Maybe someday there’ll be a gallery show or a book called “The Backstreets of Toronto.” But for now, Bob’s happy walking these quiet paths, camera in hand, capturing what most people never stop to notice.

My Toronto lane way album on Flickr.

Lane Ways

 

Bob Visits the David Blackwood Exhibit at the AGO

Bob and his photo friends spent the morning at the Art Gallery of Ontario exploring the David Blackwood: Myth & Legend exhibit. The moment they stepped into the dimly lit gallery, they were surrounded by the haunting prints that captured life, struggle, and endurance in Newfoundland’s coastal towns. Bob, camera always in hand, was struck by how Blackwood’s etchings felt both historical and deeply emotional — like stories whispered through smoke and sea spray.

They moved quietly from piece to piece, taking in scenes of icebergs, sailors, and ghostly figures trudging through snow. The atmosphere was calm and reflective — a perfect space for photographers who appreciate storytelling through imagery. Bob noticed how the shadows and light in the gallery mirrored the tones in Blackwood’s work, making every photo opportunity a moody composition in itself.

After a while, the group found a comfortable couch under one of Blackwood’s quotes:

“At this point, we have no idea of what lurks beneath the surface! Regardless, there is never disappointment.”

Bob smiled at that line. It felt like something any street photographer could relate to — wandering the city, never knowing what moments you might uncover, but always finding something worth capturing.

In another room, a projection of an ocean scene cast red fishing nets across the walls. Bob couldn’t resist stepping into the frame, letting the net’s pattern fall across his face as if caught in the story himself. For him, this was the perfect blend of art and photography — a reminder that being part of an image can be just as meaningful as taking it.

The visit ended with one last photo in front of the exhibit’s title wall: David Blackwood: Myth & Legend. It wasn’t just an art show — it was a reflection of resilience, storytelling, and the timeless bond between people and place. For Bob and his photo friends, it was an inspiring reminder of why they love to capture the world in their own way — one image, one story at a time.

 

Bob’s Square View of Union Station

Bob took his trusty Sony RX100 downtown again — this time setting the camera to shoot in square format. There’s something about that perfect 1:1 frame that forces him to see the world differently. Today’s subject: Union Station in Toronto, a mix of history, symmetry, and endless movement.

The Forgotten Corners

Bob started in the quiet side halls — where two old Bell payphones still hang on the wall like relics of a slower era. The wood panels glowed under the overhead lights, giving the scene a sense of calm isolation. In the square frame, the symmetry felt almost church-like — a small shrine to communication before smartphones took over.

The Grand Light

Next, Bob looked up at the massive arched window in the main hall. The afternoon light poured through, soft and hazy, brushing against the stone walls. He framed it perfectly square — no need for cropping later. The geometry of the window and the rhythm of the glass panes fit naturally in the format, like the RX100 was made for it.

The Modern Walkways

Through a doorway, the station opened into the renovated concourse. Bob caught the clean lines, the reflections on the polished floors, and the signs leading to banks and exits — all rendered in perfect balance within his frame. Every image felt like a study in composition, not just a snapshot.

The Skywalk to the City

Heading through the Skywalk, Bob captured the sign above the archway, people moving toward the UP Express, and the train tracks below leading into the city skyline. The RX100 handled the light and shadows effortlessly. The square crop turned each scene into a visual story — part architecture, part motion.

From above, Bob looked down the long glass tunnel of the Skywalk, watching people move through shafts of afternoon light. The lines of steel and glass drew his eye all the way to the end — a vanishing point that felt infinite. In square format, the symmetry became even stronger, a perfect mix of architecture and rhythm.

At the platform, Bob paused as the UP Express train waited to depart. Sleek, quiet, and modern — it looked almost futuristic against the old steel beams and weathered rail lines. He framed it perfectly, the reflections on the glass and the red signal lights adding contrast. In that square shot, old Toronto and new Toronto met on the same track.

Reflections of the Journey

Finally, Bob looked through the glass tunnel that connects to the Rogers Centre — the famous Skywalk bridge. He photographed the structure’s repeating triangles, the way sunlight bounced along the railings, and the silence between commuters. “Venture off the beaten stock,” one ad read — a message that fit the day perfectly.

Union Station has been photographed a million times, but Bob’s square perspective gave it a quiet intimacy — turning corridors, light, and trains into minimalist stories.

Sometimes, a new format doesn’t just change how a photo looks — it changes how you see.

 

Bob at Profusion: Shooting with the Sony RX100

Today, Bob packed light and went downtown to the Profusion Expo — Toronto’s big photography and video gear event. Instead of hauling his usual street setup, Bob brought just his trusty Sony RX100 compact camera. Small, quiet, and sharp — the perfect camera to move through the crowd and capture moments without fuss.

The Portrait Booth Magic

One of Bob’s favorite setups was at the Sony booth, where a dreamy pastel scene came alive with soft pink tulle and glowing studio lights. Models posed gracefully behind layers of fabric, giving each shot an ethereal, almost cinematic look. The RX100 handled it beautifully — the fast lens and accurate auto focus caught the delicate textures of light drifting through the fabric.

Bob stood among a crowd of photographers, everyone aiming their lenses toward the model framed by soft waves of tulle. He admired how lighting can transform a simple background into art. It reminded him of why he loves photography — finding calm, elegance, and beauty in fleeting seconds.

Candid Moments and Color Backdrops

In another corner, bold backdrops of orange, blue, and red filled the display area. Bob switched between booths, photographing models sitting casually on stools, or even a small dog in a sweater perched proudly on a hot pink couch. These setups showed the fun side of the expo — creativity meeting playfulness.

The RX100, though small, handled the color transitions and lighting challenges with ease. Bob loved that it didn’t draw attention like a big DSLR; it let him blend in, observe, and capture natural smiles and spontaneous moments.

The Crowd Behind the Camera

While everyone aimed their lenses toward the stage, Bob turned around and took a few shots of the crowd itself — photographers testing gear, adjusting settings, or waiting for the perfect flash. To Bob, this was just as interesting as the models on display. It was a reminder that behind every perfect photo, there’s a sea of people chasing light and composition.

Final Thoughts

By the end of the day, Bob realized he didn’t need his full kit to capture the spirit of Profusion. The RX100 proved once again that creativity isn’t about how big your camera is — it’s about how you see the world through it. From glowing fabrics to bright studio setups and curious crowds, Bob left the expo with a memory card full of inspiration — and maybe a few ideas for his next street photography outing.

 

Bob’s Paw Patrol: City Dogs and Their Saturday Adventures

It was a crisp Saturday morning when Bob decided to hit the streets of downtown Toronto for what he called his own “Paw Patrol.” Camera slung over his shoulder, he wasn’t chasing cartoon pups — he was capturing real ones, the four-legged citizens that bring life to the city sidewalks.

From King Street to the quiet alleys near Adelaide, dogs of all shapes and sizes were out leading their humans on morning adventures. Bob spotted one man waiting patiently at the crosswalk, his loyal dog watching traffic like a seasoned commuter. Just down the block, another walker juggled two tiny companions who seemed to have very different ideas of where to go.

In a side alley, a woman in pink sweats guided her two dogs like a pro — one strutting confidently, the other wandering freely with the kind of independence that only city dogs seem to have.

For Bob, it wasn’t just about photographing pets — it was about the bond between people and their dogs in the middle of a busy metropolis. Amid honking cars and streetcar rails, there was something grounding about seeing how a simple walk could connect two beings so perfectly.

By the end of his paw patrol, Bob had a gallery of everyday moments that showed Toronto’s softer side — one leash at a time.

 

The Blue Jays lost the World Series

On my walk today, I found two red maple leaves — crisp, deep red, and full of character. Holding them, I realized that the true symbol that unites Canada isn’t just a team or a trophy — it’s this simple red leaf.

The Blue Jays might have lost the World Series, but for a few weeks, they gave Canada something bigger than a championship — they gave us unity. From coast to coast, we were one voice cheering under one flag. It felt like every street, bar, and living room across the country was part of the same heartbeat.

But even as the echoes of the crowd fade, we’re reminded of something deeper. The true symbol that unites this country isn’t a team or a trophy — it’s the red maple leaf. That simple shape has carried our pride through wars, peacekeeping missions, Olympic games, and now, tough economic times.

With new tariffs coming from the United States, Canadians are reminded once again of the strength that comes from standing together. Challenges like these don’t divide us — they pull us closer. We support our farmers, our workers, and our industries. We buy local, we adapt, and we find new ways to grow on our own terms.

The Blue Jays may have brought us together for a moment, but the maple leaf binds us for a lifetime. It’s on our flag, our hearts, and in the forests that stretch across this vast country. It’s a reminder that while teams win or lose, and politics shift, Canada’s unity endures — strong, red, and proud.

 

Bob finds out why people line up six hours before the game outside the Rogers Centre

I found out pretty quickly why people were already lining up six hours before the first pitch for Game 2 — and again for Game 7 — of the World Series in Toronto. As I walked around the Rogers Centre, camera in hand, I met die hard fans bundled up in Blue Jays jackets, hoodies, and gloves, sipping hot coffee and talking baseball like it was a family reunion.

It turns out these early birds all had general admission standing-room tickets. No assigned seats — just open spots along the railings and behind the outfield. The earlier you get there, the better your view of the field once those gates open. Some had been there since early morning, setting up lawn chairs, wrapped in blankets, and watching the crowd grow as game time approached.

One fan told me he’d been to every home playoff game this season and wasn’t taking any chances tonight. “It’s like camping for a concert,” he laughed, “but colder.” Others were swapping stories of past seasons, trading pins, and showing off their custom jerseys. The camaraderie made the long wait seem like part of the event itself.

Then came the real shocker — the fans told me those standing-room tickets originally sold for $340 when they first went on sale, but by Game 7 day, resale prices had soared to over $1,700. For many, it wasn’t just about the ticket anymore — it was about being part of history.

By mid-afternoon, the lines stretched from Gate 10 around the corner to Gate 14. Fans in Vladimir Guerrero Jr. and Bo Bichette jerseys huddled together, the buzz of anticipation in the air. Some played cards, others blasted music on portable speakers — a real street party atmosphere outside the dome.

When I asked a group of fans how they handled waiting so long, one of them just smiled and said, “If you want the best spot in the house, you earn it.”

That’s dedication — the kind that turns a cold November afternoon into a shared experience of passion, patience, and baseball pride.

Game 7 or not, these folks were already part of the story before the first pitch was even thrown.

Behind the Hot Dog Stands — A Visit to Champs Food Supplies on game day.

Toronto was buzzing with World Series fever when I stopped by Champs Food Supplies, the go-to spot for the city’s hot dog and sausage vendors. Al, who runs the place, greeted me like an old friend. He had that easygoing, hardworking energy you see in people who keep Toronto’s streets fed and moving.

Outside the shop, boxes of hot dog buns were stacked high, ready to be rolled out to vendors across the city. The shelves were lined with giant jars of pickles, relish, and peppers — the essential toppings that complete a street dog. Nearby, crates of pop and sauces waited to be loaded up.

Al grinned when I asked how many hot dogs and sausages he expected to sell today. “Over ten thousand,” he said proudly. With Game 7 of the World Series happening at the Rogers Centre, every cart in town was gearing up for a massive day.

He even made up an order so I could take photos — stacks of buns, sausages, and condiments, all destined for hungry fans. I thanked Al, slung my camera over my shoulder, and started the walk down to the Rogers Centre.

Sure enough, the smell of sizzling sausages hit me before I even saw the blue umbrellas and the crowd of Jays fans lined up at the hot dog carts. Somewhere among those 10,000 hot dogs was mine — fresh off the grill, loaded with mustard, onions, and relish.

It wasn’t just a street snack. It was a taste of Toronto on game day — the flavor of the city at its best.