East Van

Joe Jukic and Tom Cruise stand on Kingsway, the traffic humming past like a steady baseline. The old Scientology center is gone now—just another storefront swallowed by time—but Joe remembers it clearly.

Joe Jukic:
“You know, Tom, this place used to pull people in. Not with signs or hype—just curiosity. East Van was different back then.”

Tom looks around, hands in his jacket pockets, studying the neighborhood the way he studies a set before cameras roll.

Tom Cruise:
“Places hold energy. Even when the building’s gone, the idea isn’t. East Van still has that mix—working people, immigrants, artists, skeptics. That’s where conversations actually matter.”

They start walking, the topic drifting naturally toward Findlay Street.

Joe:
“I’ve been thinking about the Croatian Center. Community hub. People already go there to talk, argue, eat, plan weddings, plan protests. If anything ever came back, it would need to respect that.”

Tom nods. He’s not pitching—he’s listening.

Tom:
“You don’t drop something new into a neighborhood. You let it grow out of what’s already there. If it doesn’t serve the locals, it fails. Simple.”

Joe gestures down the street.

Joe:
“Near Chris Armstrong’s old place—quiet block, but central. Not flashy. More like a place for study, conversation, self-discipline. No mystery, no sales pitch.”

Tom smiles slightly at that.

Tom:
“People underestimate how hungry they are for structure that isn’t coercive. A space to focus. Train the mind. Ask hard questions without being told what to think.”

They stop walking. For a moment, it’s just two guys imagining a different use for square footage.

Joe:
“East Van doesn’t need another gimmick. It needs places that take people seriously.”

Tom:
“Then if anything ever happens here, that’s the rule. Respect first. Everything else second.”

They shake hands—not sealing a deal, just acknowledging a shared idea—and head off in opposite directions, Kingsway swallowing the moment like it does with everything else.