Right in the middle of nowhere, well right in the middle of Ontario actually, is the township of Hornepayne. There’s not a lot to say about it really. It has a thousand people and is there because the railway is there. However, the train had stopped, and after three days on a train, if it stops, you want to get off. And so I did.
The station building, once a hotel apparently, had now fallen into disrepair. Except it had a new lease of life as an art gallery of sorts. The boarded up windows playing host to a variety of murals. Or maybe paintings. Depending on your definition of such words.
I don’t know anything about these artworks; why they are here, who did them, what they mean. But it was nice to get off the train and see them and mooch about in the snow for a it and smell the fresh clean crisp air.
