Posted on 22/05/04
This ain't the Rosedale symphony
On the streets of Rosedale, the stately rhythm of life goes on as always: The tiny, perfumed gift shops are doing a steady trade, a mason is repointing the brickwork on a looming Victorian, and a Porsche slows on Crescent Avenue for a lady in an argyle sweater who is crossing with her arthritic Yorkshire terrier.
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