Before I left to Ottawa, I met up with Lina and Qais in a pub called The Communist’s Daughter at Dundas and Ossington (near where I live). Funny name he? It’s cozy, candlelit and powered by body heat. A friend of Qais’, Brendan, joined us later.

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Interior Communist’s daughter

It’s a real small pub with 8 small tables and it can get very crowded. Nevertheless it’s worth going to. The interior is a mix of bohemian, artistic and homey with a jukebox that plays eclectic jazz, indie and some classic rock.

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Interior Communist’s daughter

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Interior Communist’s daughter

But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Lina and Qais called it a night but I wanted to stay a little longer. So, Brendan and I went to a place called After Hours, don’t ask me where it was because I have no idea. After hours is actually used to indicate places that stay open longer then 2 am. Most places (bar, pubs) close after 2 in Toronto.

Once arrived at the place it had the most weirdest vibe ever. It was cold, not cosy, nothing that could possibly attract people to go there. Apparently it does attract people. But what kind of people is another story. I stuck around for 2 hours, I have no idea why I stayed for so long.

I was always curious how it would feel like to do hard drugs (cocaine or MDMA) but after that night, I’m most definitely no longer interested. It was sad. Really sad. I sat there with Brendan when suddenly people just sniffed coke in front of me. It was apparently that kind of place. I cannot exactly explain what I felt except for the sadness. It actually hit me more afterwards. I just kept wondering how the hell I ended up there.

Drug Addicted Man Taking Cocaine

There were all sorts of people there. There was an old man way to drunk sitting next to me, there were three people doing coke in front of me, there was a gay guy hitting on me, there was a woman with a skirt just covering her ass and boobs jumping out of her dress … The gay guy even pointed out that I was looking way too proper for this place. I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.

I think what bothered me most is that they asked me if I wanted some. There is just nothing romantic or attracting in doing coke. You’re making a line of coke with a card, closing one nostril while approaching the line of coke with your other nostril to sniff toxic white powder. Sad. I would like to understand it but I just can’t.

So, I sat there for two hours wondering on what drives people to stoop so low.