[Image-2] I’m going to miss Halifax. I’ll miss the view of the ocean, the fog, the rain, the hurricane winds in September, the seaspray, the jellyfish, the cold beaches, the warm lakes, the taste of lobster and beer and mackerel; I’ll miss the bare hill of the Citadel, I’ll miss dreaming that maybe one day they’ll finally plant trees on it; I’m going to miss stupid biking rules, fighting my way through traffic, angry drivers, kind drivers; I’ll miss the market on Saturdays, knowing I always have a choice between hiding away in a corner to read a book, or spending a very social day chatting out with friends drinking cider; I’ll miss the uniqueness of some spots: that one venue to dance to good music, that one bar to drink decent wine, that one place to have decent Indian food, the familiarity of it all, knowing it’s always there and it never changes; I’ll miss people saying: “you have an accent, where are you from” and seeing their blank faces after I say: “You have an accent too! But a Canadian one, of course”; I’m going to miss people’s friendly faces, the friendly and genuine “hello, how are you doing” and the fake and automatic “hello-how-are-you-doing-good-thank-you”; I’ll miss drunken chatty old men speaking their heart out in random bars; I’ll miss moving often, the slumlords, the student house parties, the houses in the North End with their special names, the open mics, the hipster-only “closed” mics; I’ll miss the beer; I’ll miss watching international food restaurants close because they don’t serve burgers; I’ll miss out navigating the awkwardness of making Nova Scotian friendships, beyond small talk; and I’ll miss one of the most unique things about this place: the proximity to nature, the beauty of biking to a lake in 20mins, dipping deep into the murky endless brown of flooded quarries when you forget, for a moment, where you are, all the while becoming a reason to remember… —localimmigrant