When does a thought become a curse?
Begin to deliver a verdict a long time coming: “Guilty. Guilty.”
My eldest daughter lives in St. Mary’s Hospital psychiatric ward.
As I write this passage in late September, there has been an unprecedented heatwave in Montreal for the last ten days.
When I was in seventh grade, I was introduced to The Beatles on a rainy day.
She walks in ways that can be seen on runways bridging Eden to New York.
The sunlight came through the spaces between the leaves above our heads while fresh air filled our lungs.