quiet, leafy streets and the social housing complex, Regent Park, are connected by the bridge that runs between, and by the jail. Most of the guns stay on one side of the bridge but when they cross over, they make the news. When he grows up one of those hockey-playing boys will remember the bridge as a social divide, a barrier of circumstance as solid as a wall. He’ll say to himself: “Outer space. I’d have been lost in there.”

 

On the Court Services run today Ariadne is still unsettled, still off-kilter. She gives her lunch to the young kid they’re transporting because somehow when she looks at him a voice says Isaac. Isaac. This boy is young, barely into adult court, and he does reminds her—not of Isaac, exactly, but of the pressures on all boys, to b...

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