"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."
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.
However, I know me. I like visiting. I like driving in and throwing my stuff around and making mad plans to fill every spare second, then moving on. I can only survive so long with a million other people. I need my land. I need my trees. I need my space.
I splurge on a coffee I cannot afford, and I smile. The sun is shining. The mountains are outside the window. I write poetry. I am loved. All is well.
I watched the skyline of Toronto being bathed in the golden light of sunset and laughed, frustrated. The skyline blocked out all that natural light from hitting us – so how do the Toronto photographers do this?
It was one of the most incredible and humbling moments of my life, I even took a moment to just stand there and take it all in.
As a child, I remember spending most of nights with my friends and family at the old wooden arbour located in the centre of town. We would run around, playing hide and seek or sit and watch the talent show or participate in the drum dance.
A little bit of Indigenous magic.
And I think it was from the stories and community that this session carried. Nothing I do comes without stories.
Tempted by the sky, they raced towards her, electricity filling the air, until they met... Storm chasing on Highway 16, BC.