Attracted to the in-between. Obsessing over the ‘well nothing really happened’ when it was everything that happened to me. Losing my motivation over the tiniest events is my normal

Even now An arm around my shoulder gives me the rush of uncomfortable promise Like the pedophiles who never went far enough for me to tell anyone about it As though anyone was there to be told in the first place

Wee little city

Photos from my walk Toronto. booming city o my heart. As soon as the sun shines. I’m yours forever. all of your sprawling plain-ness In all your cultural uniqueness your idiosyncratic wandering paths your backyard decay peeping through the alleys your dead ends your gardens your people the sound of your wildlife and the remains … More Wee little city