It was a hot August day. My family and I decided to take my brother to the CN Tower for his birthday, because he had never been there before.
After riding the elevator, we stepped out onto the observation deck and looked around at the city from high above. The sun shone through a haze which gave everything the impression of being dusty and desaturated. It was so windy that our hair and clothes flapped about violently.
Above us, we could see and hear planes whooshing through the blue-gray sky. Millions of air conditioners hummed, sirens wailed, and automobiles and streetcars dawdled through the city grid with all manner of intermittent beeps. Many unidentifiable machines rattled and clashed. In the distance somewhere, I thought I could even hear the slightest sound of music.
It was not what I expected to hear standing 1,122 feet in the air. It was loud: it droned and buzzed and honked. It was uncanny. The sound of Toronto is that of a massive engine.