Montreal Will Devour You Like the Man-Eating Beast That She Is
Each November, Montreal’s grey skies and endless drizzle lull her victims into a state of sensual paralysis. Her gaping maw then devours them whole, not releasing them until five months later when, delirious and partly digested, they are ejected into a perplexing landscape of budding trees and yawning tulips.
This year, however, “November” has lasted since early October. I’m sure that, at some point over the past two months, most Montrealers have contemplated hurling themselves in front of a blue metro train or into the charcoal depths of the St. Lawrence.
Twenty-nine days of rain, four o’clock dusk and a liberal smear of gooey, partly dissolved leaves: these are the ingredients of Montreal’s late-autumn poison, or at least a robust case of Seasonal Affective Disorder.
Tags: Montreal, Weather
