Toronto, my home, is Gotham city.
Damien Malice is playing guitar. I think of his fierce hands, gentle and calloused at the finger tips.
I ask him: “who did you write that for? What are you saying?”
His dark brown hair covers his face as he shreds a tender solo that sings just for me.
Damien looks up from his playing. He says with half smile and half snarl: “it occurred to me last night, in a nightmare I was having.”