Turrets' Syndrome

To relieve the snow blindness I am presently suffering from, or to assist me in becoming blind to the snow that is swirling about outside my windows here in the Hills, I'm gazing back fondly at some of my favourite colourful houses I walked past on my marathon trek from one end of Montreal to the other last November.

Fit for a fairytale princess, I think. 

Obviously a sleeping one, judging from the dried up plants on the balcony. 

A veritable paintbox of house colours! 

This row of homes is across the street from a delightful little park named Carré St-Louis.  The first time I moved to Montreal, in 1970, I lived in this area.  But even at that time, before they were massively renovated, these jewels were far beyond my rent budget.  In the winter time, the centre of the park is flooded and an ice-rink is made and lined with twinkling Christmas lights.  In the summer, students from near-by McGill University sit on park benches, reading serious books, while rubbies, or out-of-work professors,  panhandle for cigarettes or spare change.  Such are the scenes these turreted condos gaze down upon. 

In the same neighbourhood, a poster-papered kiosk competes for attention with the colourful mural behind it.  I find the shape and positioning of the windows high up in the wall particularly intriguing.  Do you think there's a half-floor, like in the movie "Being John Malkovich"?

Here we see the new cropping up against the old, Quebec flag patriotically snapping to attention in the wind.

Have you noticed I have a thing for turrets? 

Must be the princess in me.