For those raised where I was, the omission of "i"s dotted with an x will be a disappointment.
Something like a postscript to all the discussion of Calgary art.
I remember coming home from Vancouver one Christmas and hallucinating(I'd take some morphine before flying) or dreaming that I saw Graceland(Calgary artists space, not Elvis' house) from the air as we made the descent into Calgary. I even remember connecting the road to it, seen from the air, to one I used to drive when I worked as driver for my Dad's company.
This is a common dream.
Some missed part of a city I am familiar with. Most often found by continuing down a street I know already, past the furthest point I'd walked. Some calm comfort, some savoury dream-happiness at having found, by no more effort than continuing on, some small part in a familiar place that solicited the same feeling as walking in a specifically unfamiliar place made safe by virtue of your intention to visit it's general location.
But I walked down 14th avenue last time I was home, into a neighbourhood I don't know and it felt nothing like that. I just checked off some box in my head, easily expanded some imaginary map.