The Old Port

We took a stoll down to the old port. For a moment I contemplated hopping a train…

But I decided a hobo’s life wasn’t one for a small house.

The boats looked nice, but I had a vision of being used as ballast or an anchor.

Near Place Jacques-Cartier

I checked to see if it was legal for bus drivers to discriminate against small houses. I didn’t see where hey couldn’t.

Then I had to stop at a famous house, of a sort.

Vive le Québec… Vive le Québec libre

Vive une petite maison libre

Don’t you think?

Champ-de-Mars

I liked the garden at the Champ-de-Mars station.

Do you ever go there? Did you ever notice homeless bed down next to the fence? Behind the vince and grasses. It’s easy to spot if you look. The photographer hadn’t seen it earlier this week. It was my first time there.

Standing on the old city wall and looking at the buildings can make one small house feel very small.

Where Do I Come From?

Now, you may go to a church to ask where you come from, but we headed down to the information booth at the Mont-Royal Metro Station to ask.

Before we had the chance the photographer discovered the sticker under my foundation.

I bet you wish you had a sticker under your foundation to find out where you come from.

A nice person gave the photographer a fiber bar.

I checked for trans fats and harmful additives.

How a Small House Travels

Not well. After the bus fiasco I tried calling for a cab.

I didn’t have 50 cents and they wouldn’t take a collect call. It’s probably best. I didn’t have the money for a cab either.

So we stopped at Restaurant Stromboli. The photographer said his wife and he had went there many times when they were “courtin.” (OK, he didn’t say “courtin” but with his accent he should have.)