"The smell of smoked hide lingers around us and as she weaves needle and stories, remembering home, and she brings peace, the low light catching off a silver thimble nestled onto the tip of a ring finger."
"My mind will take me on new adventures through big city sex shops, into secret underground clubs, delving into the pages of new readings that will make me blush, but my body will always want to return from where it first came, understanding that a love born of the north is a story you never forget."
"I would wander into the night and find the best location to capture these dancing lights. It made me feel free going out into my little Rez and seeing these lights in the sky, so peaceful and vibrant. I would often think about my grandfather saying, “don’t whistle, they’ll grab you,” and giggle to myself."
This is probably why I am all for selfies – I think we have spent enough time being told to bow our heads, to be silent, to not take up space. Love songs are written about how women don’t know they’re beautiful, as if realizing our beauty is the single greatest flaw we could have. As if we are only beautiful if affirmation comes from someone else. Fuck dat.
A night of dancing on Granville with an insta-queen and now real-life friend. We bonded over 90's hiphop and perusing a late-night sex shop. Getting lost on Burnaby mountains and shopping makeup, sipping sangria and sharing stories of men, family, and dreams. Eating tacos and getting lit at 11 AM, thick accents on point as we laughed and teared up, mourning and celebrating in the moment, like Indigenous women do. And finally, pasta and poetry shared on an adventure of lost restaurants, a decade's worth of friendship, and planning the next sleepover.