Of patterns

There was this very little dog that played with a basketball as big as he was in a large snowfield. He would push the ball around with his forehead at a tremendous speed, sliding and slipping on the snow but gathering great momentum nonetheless. Eventually, the ball would collect wet snow and its new irregular…

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365 days

A year ago exactly, I arrived in Vancouver. I had minimal luggage, big hopes, bigger dreams and even bigger worries. Turns out some of the worries were justified, others weren’t. And here I am. Almost a Vancouverite, still homeless in my heart which is a drag because home is where the heart is. And by…

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Snow storm

While in the Nation (sic) of Québec people are still wondering if Gilles Vigneault was right to say "Mon pays ce n’est pas un pays, c’est l’hiver", Vancouver is being given a well deserved lesson and rather stunning proof that "Mon chemin ce n’est pas un chemin, c’est la neige." I was so wrong yesterday…

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