I was born in Montreal, like my mother. I have long felt an emotional attachment to my hometown.
It was when I returned home after a long study stay in Paris that I understood that Montreal had a vibrant and joyful soul. That it was open in its day, but it wasn’t a nice city.
In winter, on the other hand, its ugliness was covered with snow. I still remember the verses of the Montreal poet Albert Lozeau, born in the 19th century, which I recited in class in elementary school from the third year. “When it snows in my country/Big snowflakes cover the branches,/And eyes are dazzled/By the clarity of the white roads. […] When it snows in my country, / We see frolicking in the streets / The little children rejoiced / By so many splendors reappeared. »
Postmodernism
Well, because of multiple construction sites ideologically oriented by a postmodern agricultural-gardening vision, Montreal, the economic and commercial metropolis of Quebec, has been disfigured. Even under centimeters of snow, Montreal neighborhoods with streets and sidewalks rutted by work of all kinds cannot camouflage even the dirt that has settled there.
During snowstorms, the ugliness of Montreal hardly disappears. Because graffiti and other tags escape the whims of the weather.
How many more years will Montreal be gutted as if tornadoes had slammed into it?
Obviously, local citizens have understood this and are leaving the island of Montreal for the large suburbs in the process of urbanization.
Or, as far as the more affluent are concerned, to well-kept secrets such as country villages where Lozeau’s poem takes on its full meaning. “When it snows on my country, / It’s because the whole sky is dispersed / On the mountain and the gray roofs / That it covers with its clear downpour, […] It’s the most beautiful country in the world/When it snows on my country! »