“It’s like being inside a cubic zirconium,” I say to my husband, Ken, after the glass door of Montréal’s Winter Bar has shushed closed behind me. Before us, slabs of colored light — yellow, green, red — shudder across faceted white walls that rise 30 feet to a round, ice-white ceiling. At the room’s edges, the sun blasts through tall, arched windows, bringing the frozen winter landscape inside.... Read more
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