An unreal calm greeted us after climbing over 50 stories. We had been eying this site (from another rooftop, no less) during the cold months, waiting and itching to to get to its now finished top.

Taking our time to ascend, we arrived at our destination cool and calm, as opposed to the usual sweaty and tired. After a sip of water, we headed for the edge, to see what view it would offer. With a clear view, fresh air, and minimal wind, we began to take our photos.

In 1912, Alfred Rogers and John Lind founded St. Marys Cement, based in its namesake town in Ontario. The enterprise expanded rapidly, and the cement produced would end up in the creation of many of Toronto's iconic structures, such as Roy Thompson Hall, Maple Leaf Gardens, and most famously, the CN Tower.

In 2010, two friends and I ventured to the derelict St. Marys silos in the Junction. Although an active set of silos remain on the property, many other companies have used the premises throughout recent years, ranging from NRI Rubber, to a bake-house -- all having subsequently abandoned the property. For years I had heard about the site, yet remained unenthusiastic. After exploring the caverns beneath the decaying silos, however, my opinion changed.

Adaptive redevelopment at the Don Valley Brickworks in Toronto has been under way for quite some time now. After examining the historical aspects of the location some time ago, I had resigned myself to never return to the place. The prospect of losing my favorite Toronto abandonment to gentrification seemed almost unbearable to me.

As fate would have it, I recently returned to the place amidst its transition, after being pressured by a fellow explorer who had never seen the property in any iteration. Much of my initial hesitance regarding the Evergreen project was immediately quelled, as I found that much of what I loved about the space remained, in a somewhat transformed state.

Toronto is full of many weird and wonderful sights. Photographers in our city have known this for ages. Putting these ideas together, it should come as no surprise that one of my favorite pastimes involves wandering around the city's nooks and crannies, camera in hand.

I decided to depart slightly from my urban exploration theme this week, and assemble a series of what might at first appear disparate images, yet all have the theme of the surreal -- bizarre and dreamlike images of Toronto. I will move through three phases of this urban surreality, beginning with scenes and places that are bizarre in their own regard, images made this way by photo processing, and finally, ordinary scenes made surreal by the elements of nature.

My penchant for rooftopping in Toronto has always come from my great love of photography. The mission is to capture unique angles of the familiar, and to make the city refreshing once again. Those familiar with my work (here and elsewhere) are no stranger to images of sweeping city-scapes, taken from all manner of unfinished condos and abandonments. I rarely make those who journey with me the subject of my rooftop photography, however, and so I thought I might give it a try.

I decided to assemble a series of images depicting the wonderful people who join me on my esoteric adventures. As the images show, many of these folks are amateur photographers like myself. Observing the etymology of the word amateur is of note here, as it is derived from the word for "love." The passion these individuals have for their hobby is most certainly rooted in this form of love. We push each other to climb higher, to go farther, and to reveal urban beauty using the often neglected roof space in our towering city.

On a quiet street just north of Toronto's Leslieville, an almost century-old Anglican church has sat vacant for several years. My first encounter with this beautiful old church took place about three years ago, when a friend suggested that I take some snaps of a derelict lot on the street, failing to mention the abandoned church that overshadowed it.

Over the years, I have returned to the church on numerous occasions, and have slowly watched as its glorious details were stripped away. While sporting minimal vandalism, the site has become only a shadow of its former self as recent years have passed. My final visit revealed stained-glass windows replaced with boarding, and a zoning notice informing passers-by that the site will shortly be converted into lofts.