My friend has loaned me a book. The author is half-Filipino, just like my friend and me. I read it eagerly. It feels familiar. The author's writing style reminds me so much of my friend's, and I relish the glimpses of the suburban neighbourhoods we grew up in. I read…
Making bread on a cloudy morning, and the soreness in my forearms during kneading surprises me. How long has it been? I remember breakfast and quickly fry some leftover rice, garlic, crack an egg on top. I make the first cup of coffee after a long weekend of illness. CBC…
My dog and I run through the rain, down the street I grew up on. Our feet are the loudest sound. I'm carrying a bag full of crab shells to dispose of in the garbage can at the end of the road, by the community mailbox. A family sees me…
An elderly man at the next till says cheerfully to the cashier, "Hallo Fräulein. Wie geht's dir? Do you know what I just said?" She giggles and says no, and that it sounded funny. He takes it in good stride. I turn to look at him and he is smiling,…
Amazing how silent the world can be mere metres from one of the busiest streets in the largest city in Canada. Just birds, birds that trill, that laugh, that shout, and the full faraway sound of an airplane, and the cars in the distance that sound like a river. But…
