the greengrocer calls out the specials on strawberries & figs; the pints of Spanish figs are brimming, the figs themselves are bursting, the fuchsia seeds yearning to break through their soft, deep purple skin. the strawberries smell like summer and children with messy faces. he tells us the strawberries are fresh from the south of france, and asks ( Read more... )

i moved into my new place on monday; i am now a real parisienne, i guess ( Read more... )

they wrote their own world,
& lit the whole thing up.


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a storm was brewing: there were pink skies & fireflies, diet cokes & corny jokes. sitting on the long grass of a hill, we watched the storm come, the wind change. lightening lit up a solitary patch of clouds in a way i've never seen before - flashing lightning from above, lighting the clouds from behind. i said it looked like god does in cartoons: ( Read more... )

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i took a twenty-seven hour train home from halifax, through northern new brunswick & rural quebec. the tracks follow the rivers, bending muddy banks as they shoulder the flow, muscling the water into a slithering series of s's. the horn calls out a warning which the cars follow & the sound disspiates with the engine's steam, tugging along by the ( Read more... )

yesterday, meghan & i went to a psychic for tarot card readings. the man sat in a little tent made of teal sheets in the back of the wiccan, magic, & curiosity shop on barrington. he was wearing a white button down shirt (the buttons were popping from his large gut) & a black suede vest. he wore glasses & his graying hair tied back in a ponytail. ( Read more... )

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