Places

Nothing and everything

Nothing changes, maybe even me. I wrap my scarf around my neck three times and nestle in. I drive my father’s car in the dark, in the rain, winding my way around random streets, wandering until I run out of coffee. Or I’m an early morning passenger with a bagel in my hand, passing my husband his coffee as we wander

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Books, nostalgia.

A friend of mine told me that Macondo Books in Guelph was going out of business, and were having a sale this weekend. I went, not just for the sale, but to say goodbye. Maybe that sounds corny, but it’s true. I always found at least one great book every time I went there, and the environment

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Peeling Rambutan

I’ve been reading poems like mad recently, so I got excited when Teri invited me to an evening of readings hosted by her friend, poet Gillian Sze. Even getting there felt sort of poetic, visuals full of meaning. My husband and I drove down Dundas in the rain, passing through the Junction, Little Portugal, Trinity-Bellwoods. Neighbourhoods

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Scenes from a book fair.

And when I say “book fair,” I don’t mean readings or lectures about books or writing or anything like that. I mean a building with multiple rooms of cheap books to buy. Basically, heaven. It started on Wednesday and Saturday was the last day, so my husband and I drove down to Brantford first thing Saturday

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Another shore.

On Sunday Lake Erie was almost impossibly still, with some ice on the horizon. I had to keep checking the spot where the water shrugged against the beach to make sure the entire lake wasn’t frozen solid. We parked at a shoreside fish & chips shop in Lowbanks, closed for the season, and I made a note

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