The first time I recognized that the city of Toronto is in fact made out of Popsicle sticks I was standing on the balcony of my friend Reh’s 28th floor apartment on Nelson Street. We had just consumed some organic granola, washed down with Czechoslovakian Absinthe, and I was feeling a bit faint; My stomach ached. Looking out over the city — the bright lights, tall buildings, and the infamous ‘Tower’ — that I had so often bragged about, I all of a sudden was able to recognize its curvature. Meaning, I could see that Toronto was merely a small node on the humungous spinning rock that we refer to as Earth. And although the earth has been around for God knows how many years, the city of Toronto is merely temporary. Its Popsicle sticks — especially the newer, more attractive kind — can be as easily snapped as Michael Phelps’s seemingly infinite streak as swim champion. And hell, didn’t you just witness his reign end in London?