Category Archives: Canada
by Gwyneth Findlay | Nov 9, 2018
Storytime with Dr. Gladwell was the highlight of every other Monday and among the most formational aspects of my early education.
by Tanice Mast | Sep 29, 2018
When everything you own is pink, excusing it as merely “ironic” becomes less convincing. No, you actually have to admit you’re fond of this obnoxious colour.
by Carolyn Muyskens | Apr 2, 2018
I think sometimes being a runner has trained me too well to use that overrule, to endure whatever path lies before me, to be patient to a fault—to stay the course when the course is going to kill me.
by Jack Van Allsburg | Jan 25, 2018
Deep in the those woods, where the Severn River winds through White spruces and Balsam firs, I wonder if any of the trees are old enough to have lived during both Jack’s lifetime and my own.
by Brad Zwiers | Sep 27, 2017
The rupture between God and humanity is crystal clear in this one, and as the play careened toward its tragic ending, no one in the theatre was surprised.
by Julia LaPlaca | Feb 23, 2017
Nowhere else in this big wide world of ours can you find a life-size Michael Jackson and Princess Diana made entirely out of marzipan.
by Josh deLacy | Aug 6, 2014
Maps do not mark nameless places. Guidebooks rarely print recommendations of ambiguous legality. So the frugal traveler must listen to vague rumors and offhand comments. Although they carry more risk, they also carry more potential than any official source.
by Josh deLacy | Jul 6, 2014
I approached the Mustang with my hands raised in surrender. No weapons. No threats. I passed through the glare of the headlights and saw three men sitting in the car. All were big in the Mike Tyson way, and all three looked angry.
by Josh deLacy | Jun 6, 2014
Sleep isn’t all that important if it comes at that rate. A night that costs more than thirty bucks is a night that would be better spent wandering around the streets killing time until sunrise.
by Caroline Higgins | Aug 7, 2013
So I let baby calves with rough tongues suck on my fingers. I stopped caring about whether or not I was getting dust on my white shorts or cow manure on my shoes.
