In Toronto’s crowded coffee scene, it takes more than an exposed brick wall to stand out. Storefront of […]
Category Archive: Toronto
College applications are approaching, and all my thinking about this defining time has not prepared me for one […]
When my older sister was born, she had a condition called neonatal jaundice. She came out with a […]
It only rained — broken drops fell forthe cold stones,dustingloneliness.Autumn cold felt like pinching white chalk on a […]
The night is cold. Cold in the sense that I cannot feel my wind-eaten fingers; cold in the […]
Someone keeps sewing my mouth shutwith stitches that match my skin. My nights are haunted by dreamswhere a […]
By Elisa Penha There’s a rabbit on the face of the moon. Well—the shape of a rabbit mapped […]
Show me who you are on the inside. Divulge yourself to an audience of thousands—perhaps millions. Do you […]
I find solace in the fact that this vision of him in my dreams is simply a fairytale.
I am mourning a person who doesn’t exist,
for he never existed how I wished him to.
The names in this article have been altered to maintain privacy. “Come on, we’re gonna be late!”, Sophie […]
It hurt me to see the pain in her eyes—the genuine fear that her baby wasn’t going to the same place as she was after death. I tried not to feel pity for the ignorance and illusionment she might live in because that would make me no better.
i arrive home. the lock to my condo jams and i spend a few seconds shimmying my key […]
i’ve always thought that the month of november receives an unfair amount of criticism.
I used to cry a lot when I was younger, whether it was to vent sadness, anger, or […]
imagine, if you will, a town. in this town, high on a hill, is a structure so menacing that children write folk tales about it. it has become a monster of its own. it eats up the town crazies and never lets them out.
Please note. I wrote this article before Lydia Night announced she and Dylan Minnette had split romantically, and this piece was in no way influenced by said events– I have not added to it, and these remain my original thoughts, untainted by this news. It is crucial to respect the privacy of both Dylan Minnette and Lydia Night during this time.
The cedar-coloured bed belongs against the northern wall. The bed is low, so a strip of white paint is visible between the bamboo mattress and the double windows. Upon examination, one may notice tiny pinpricks dotting the wall, proof of nails once wedged there.
Author’s Note: this is possibly the most vulnerable thing I have ever written on the internet, and I think that’s saying a lot—especially for me. My near-death experiences, relationship drama, and connection with my culture have all been aired for the public to see. But this, this feels scarier. This feels different.