I work for a radio group that has its offices at the End of the World, otherwise known as the boundary of the city of Toronto. It’s only a 45-minute subway ride but an entirely different mindset away from downtown.

Each morning on my way to the subway station I am greeted by the local wildlife.

I ride all the way out to Kipling Station, otherwise known as The End of the World. In the distance, there is home.

I often stand outside and stare up at the radio tower. Sometimes falcons roost there, keeping a watch for stray starlings.

All day I write short radio pieces on topics of great import.

I also engage in a multitude of other tasks that challenge both my intellect and dexterity.

I take breaks in the break room, otherwise known as the patch of cement at the foot of the radio tower.

At the end of the day, I battle the rush hour commuters for a spot on the train.

Home…the light at the end.