The University of Toronto building was a drab gray, covered in vines, some windows were dark and gaping. Students lay sprawled on the lawn, sunbathing, their backpacks tossed aside. Passing through the archway, the lettering on the stone wall was worn smooth to the touch. A squirrel darted out of a trash can, snatching a potato chip. A guitarist sat on the steps of the library, playing a languid tune. Turning out, across the street was the Chinatown sign, bright red, a stark contrast.