I’ve been writing a story about Chicago recently. It’s taking me places I never thought I’d see, and small pieces of the tale, like debris, are emerging one by one from a thick fog. It’s a very abstract process. As for the story itself, it’s really just a dusty, noisy mess, with images of honking…
A gleaming fingernail of a moon hung over the bird, the pool of saltless water lapping the mossy rock. You know how the Great Lakes curl into Ontario as well as the US? On a map, the point where water meets land would just be a line, but in reality, where the lake licks the…
The Canadian spring weather that greeted me at the Toronto airport was cold–but then, that was back in early May. Today, I went out for what feels like my sixteenth walk and saw flowers cupping sunlight like overflowing goblets of hues. Afterward, I came back inside and scrolled through my mess of photos from my…