A rainy morning in East York

The exteriors of the East York Collegiate building with a gothic architectural style. (Courtesy of Wasifa Noshin)

The narrative of a former East-Yorker trying to capture their young adult life in Toronto as seen on a rainy morning.

Shot in Android | Photo edits by Wasifa Noshin


When I immigrated to Canada at eight years old from Dhaka, Bangladesh, everything felt foreign. I left behind all my friends, family, everything I’d ever known, and the only place I’d ever call “home” back in New Eskaton Road for better education and opportunities in Toronto.

My family and I settled at the 390 Dawes Road apartment complex in East York back in 2008 —  until 2021. We decided to officially close the 390 chapter and flip the page onto the next chapter of our lives. 

As I moved into my new “home” this past April, I couldn’t help but reminisce about 390 since it was my home for the past 13 years. That same home saw me experience my young adult life — from elementary school, middle school, high school, and finally university. It witnessed me flustered on my prom day back in 2017. It saw me spend hours upon hours cramming for exams at the Dawes Road Library. It even witnessed me leaving behind business school to pursue my theatre degree and all the hardships that came with it. 

390 was there during my darkest days and it was there to watch me conquer new heights.

So, on a rainy Tuesday morning, I decided to go for a long walk and visit all those spots that I called “home” for the past 13 years. I discovered that “home” is more than just a place, it’s also a feeling.


Outside the 390 apartment complex. At eight years old, the building felt too big.
The Dawes Road Library became my second home. I spent hours getting lost in books.
Outside the new George Webster Elementary School. The original school was demolished and renovated recently so this school feels foreign now, I don’t even recognize it.
At the George Webster Road and Chapman Avenue intersection. I spent many years walking these streets to get home.
At the Coxwell Avenue and Cosburn Avenue intersection. I waited to catch the 87 bus to get home for many years.
Outside East York Collegiate Institute. The years spent here went on to define my post-secondary self.
The main doors of East York high school.
At the entrance to the track and field. I dreaded doing laps for mandatory physical education.
I spent sunny lunches on these outdoor tables and seats.
Waiting at the 23 bus stop to get to Main Street Station.
At Coxwell Avenue and Plains Road. I would spend hours writing fiction and short stories, or studying while getting coffee at Starbucks.
My new “home” — ready to set down some new roots in this next chapter.

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By Wasifa Noshin

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Kay

Beautiful