The Majestic fire started very quietly, and I was wondering what the fuss was all about.
The sight of the Majestic roof ablaze grabbed the headlines later, but you probably missed the best part; the noirish view of a deserted Quebec Street, the Hollywood smoke effect making the great stone edifice of the Queens Hotel not so much tower as haunt. It would have been a great night to bump off a gangster rival in the alleys between Quebec Street and Wellington Street.
It didn't look like much then. "I don't know what's going on inside," I said in a text message around 8.30pm. "But it's just a bit of smoke out here." I walked around the building and, even with the police cordon in place, I could have reached out to touch the Majestic's side, given it a reassuring pat. "It'll be okay," I didn't say. "Nothing to worry about."
It's a good job I didn't say that, because if those walls could have talked they would have said, "Are you bloody kidding?"
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The Majestic fire started very quietly, and the building is very quiet again now. When things are quiet, though, is when you can hear your heartbeat; you hear a reminder to love.
Photo Report: The Morning After the Majestic Fire