Taken near dusk on a Montreal back-street, this painting on the side of a building near some sort of sketchy park has an explanation, or at least a poem of some kind, next to it. Even though I could probably muddle through the French, I decided that I feel that the mystique of the Vulture Saint (in the proclaimed City of Saints) was its allure. More on Montreal in a moment. 
Frenchman Bay and the Porcupine Islands, off the coast of Maine. The little hamlet you see nestled into the bay is none other than Bar Harbor.
Some people wonder why I miss home as much as I do. Maybe this will serve to help explain.
Domonic, Lord of the North Atlantic. Taken off Belfast, Maine.
Montreal's "Centre-ville", or downtown. You can (if you click to enlarge) clearly see the Chinatown Holiday Inn, pagoda-roofs and all. I have to say: the town really grew on me, and I'm hoping it won't be long before I can return.
Bruthah needs his poutine, oui?
Balthazar, Ruiner of Worlds. His look of quiet desperation says less of "Please, good sir, let me scamper forth from my bondage" and more of "Betch, when I get out I am gonna kill you myself, shet-bag."
Moments after the clothes hamper was lifted, he killed and dined upon a hapless tot.
Until next time, I remain,
Domonic (getshispetsfromNativeAmericancemeteries) Potorti
1 comment:
alright dominic. i can clearly see in some of these photos that you are indeed in maine. if this is in fact true, then why the feck wasnt i notified? i surely would have wanted to see you. however, after this, im not sure if i want to see you ever again.
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