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Summer in the City
My steps lead me back down Montreal's green little alleyways for the summer. The last of my furniture was in my old room, overlooking Parc Lafontaine. It felt comfortable yet foreign. I hadn't laid foot in it since over six months ago. One by one, I reunited with memories. An ice cream cone wrapper. A quirky post card. A note to myself on a public transit ticket from another city. "Don't Panic" - I was reading the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy at the time, and used it as a bookmark. Two of my bikes were waiting, with a bunch of old running shoes and piles of books. I started packing boxes. I moved to Vancouver almost a year ago, but I don't think Montreal will ever stop feeling like home. A friend and I went to Kem CoBa for the first time this year. Their daily soft serve was a swirl of Dulce de Leche ice cream and Pear sorbet. I ate it first, and followed it with gnocchi in homemade tomato sauce sprinkled with freshly grated cheese from la Dro...
First time nerves are often the worst
A million damning possibilities have yet to make way for silver linings and rays of sunshine. Come to think of it, I believe it is an incredible luck that there has been so much written about courtesans and their lovers. Passages recounting trysts made me blush as I looked over my shoulder, making sure no one was noticing what I was feasting on. The details of adventures, lace and soirees intrigued me and enchanted me - getting to know a person in such an intimate way appealed greatly to me. On the other hand, everywhere around me was this pervasive message that I was expected to act a certain way. As an adolescent I remember being told by a family relative : "Oh my dear, ladies don't apply rouge at the restaurant table." I had only finished my meal and found it foolish to shield the world from the view of me re-applying a soft pink lipstick. I turned to her and asked why that was, that this ritual should somehow be hidden. The explanation left me unsatisfied a...
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