Carpool
The streets were eternal back thenback when back seat was a canopy of armsstretched out like the solsticethe thump of tire on chewed cementjolting the deviance from feeble bodiesMomma was no pilot, bu... Read more
Duality
“Where are you from?” Usually, people don’t believe that I’m Jamaican, on account of me not having an accent, not speaking patwa—and also not being Black. They don’t generally have a probl... Read more
Grieving a Stranger
My parents came to Canada as refugees in the late ’80s for better opportunities and to escape Ethiopia’s hellish dictatorship. Though I cannot know the extent of their struggles, I can speak of th... Read more
Time Moves Both Ways
Last summer, my wife and I rode our bikes together along the Cambridge to Paris rail trail—an eighteen kilometer venture alongside an out-of-use train track. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fitness q... Read more
The Boat
... Read more
Why Do the Fare Inspectors Look Armed?
Every LRT car I hop into will visit Conestoga Station and Fairview Station, even if I don’t witness them. Even if I’ll never truly know for sure. I keep the volume in my headphones low enough that... Read more
True Blue
Elvis isn’t dead. He lives in Kitchener, Ontario, on a bench outside the grocery store. “One for the money!” I’m always tempted to say, as I dump a pathetic amount of change into his blistery ... Read more
The Tower
Looking down to the ground below, wind whips around my body. The gravity allures me, asking me to take the step forward, asking me to throw it all away. I am reassured; my heart gives way to apathy. T... Read more
Skin
Textile · Yvonne Tagoe - SkinMy skin is a beautiful gift not a sin But in this foreign land They don’t understand that my skin is my pride and joy In this foreign land far from home my skin is a so... Read more
Windows
I view space as something positive and negative. A space is something we can connect and grow in, but too much space, or space applied in the wrong way, becomes isolating. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to find my space, people who looked and thought like me, and it wasn’t until I did that I got an idea of who I was. These portraits show that spaces can be scary, isolating, and confusing, but they can be a space to grow and become, too Read more
Grieving a Stranger (Digital Storytelling Workshop)
My parents came to Canada as refugees in the late ’80s for better opportunities and to escape Ethiopia’s dictatorship. Though I cannot know the extent of their struggles, I can speak of their consequences... Read more