The rat

It rains on the first day of the hunt. No bother, we say, hit the concrete with one umbrella, no map. The buzz had begun a few days earlier, word was Banksy had been in town.

The proof was sketched across town on buildings and in back alleys, markings of a graffiti artist gone mainstream. There’s a film to promote, so we wondered if it was all a stunt to cause a film-frenzy, but the local experts say the works are real and the papers believe them.

A black and white blur Jamie saw through the window of a cab turns out to be nothing more than a street-side tag by a local author. One down. We walk up and into Chinatown, tramp through back alleys until we find the Rat.

It looks just like the photo we saw of it on the web, but we grin and snap another. Simulacrum. Then its down the Rogers Centre, where we walk in circles and find nothing.

The next day I meet Hali to search through Trinity Bellwoods. We walk the park’s perimeter; see nothing. Strike two runs into a patio, we give up and grab a beer.

After our failure, of course, the blogosphere gives up on the code of ethics its been holding on to in the morning and Torontoist publishes each art pieces location.

It’s up now, the hunt is over: time to head out and find them.