I used to own the place opposite 135 James St, in downtown's Inner Harbour neighbourhood. This is going way back. I was tending bar, and in my spare time writing poems and a slew of derivative stories. Raymond Carver I was not. I never left home without wondering at the history of 135. It sits further back from the road than any of its neighbours, with a back-to-the-wall personality I identify with. Its symmetry intimidated me slightly, and I can't properly explain that; I felt as if it must have a complicated and fascinating history. it was a farmhouse originally, perhaps, and verdant pastures flowed north from it like a river. It is more conventional now. Renovated in the 1980s is my guess, and much loved, but about due another go. There is a covered porch and a full-width living room with hardwood floors. A formal dining room and an old kitchen tucked away at the back. There is also a covered breezeway between the house and the double-deep block garage in which you can surely build your airship or your go-karts. The three bedrooms gather around the upstairs bathroom as if for tonight's storytime. I think another unit built inside and possibly above the garage would make an awful lot of sense. Something to house the in-laws or help with the mortgage. It's a future possibility that tugs irresistibly at the present, like a bright thread pulling lives together. But you could also just bring the kids and call it home, build vegetable gardens out front, make friends with the marvellous neighbours, walk every morning to the Elm Cafe and Daughters Grocery, or up Pine to the Sunday market.