Dear Halifax,
You are the most luxurious locale I've ever slid into in the summer. I yearn for your warm sunny-folk bosom; I dream about your lakes and walks and talks and propeller-impregnated preponderant pondering on the Citadel. Prancing folk and stoop-sit smokes, and the North End forever, eternally. And mmmmm, those backyard restaurant shin-digs with home brews and home bros and sisters! Your economy might suck for people who aren't in the trades, but since when was a love affair ever economical? Moving to Alberta was super lame of me. BUT, as we all know well, one can never truly leave Halifax. I look forward to the day I once again bask in your seasonal glory! Please forgive me for ever doubting you. The most love possible. —That Short-Sighted Gal Who Left You For Jobs