Many moons ago I was a university student in Toronto.  I loved music … going to the Mariposa Folk Festival every summer, singing with the University of Toronto Chorus, playing my LPs of Buddy Holly endlessly in my bedroom.

I had a tradition on Thursday evenings, before I headed to choir practice – having a burger and fries at Harvey’s, then walking along Bloor Street till I reached the gate of Philosopher’s Walk, which you can see in the picture.  The building on the right is the Royal Conservatory of Music, where many careers were launched.

If my heart was sad, walking under those windows (so often open) cheered me up.  Because sweet tones of the voice or the instrument greeted me as I passed by.

It was a blessing.

Fifty some years later, I’m a student at the Poel music school in Gent.  Also on Thursdays, I have my cello lesson.  Before the teacher arrives, I usually sit on a bench in the courtyard.  And look up …

More windows, also with music sometimes spilling out.  Plus small studios on the ground floor, favouring my ears with guitar, drums, piano …

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From there to here

From then to now

The same upturned face

The same wonder