We drove straight into the storm. Rain pelted against our windshield, the classic rock playing from the car’s speakers fighting to be heard over the sound of the wind outside.
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I spent years associating the sunrise birdsong to my basic failure to uphold a bedtime.
Nothing is fully familiar. Even the rooms I rest in feel somewhat foreign.
That evening, Rotterdam held its breath for us.
I am still home but it feels far from it. The space isn’t yet devoid of voices but it feels so empty.
For many, the night is a time of escape and peace, but for the majority of my life, it’s been one of my worst enemies.
I wonder if it feels so good to watch strangers because they’re just postcards to me — maybe I simply see in them what I would see in myself if I ever turned toward my own reflection in the window.
I only get vulnerable halfway through the night
At night, stripped of everything but its salty residue in the air, the sea looks different.
It’s 2009 and I’m six years old. My brother and I share a bedroom with two twin beds and mine’s in the furthest corner.
There are many nights I capitulate to rewatching Veronica Mars, which I initially began watching because I am madly in love with Kyle Gallner. My mother, I’m sure, would say he’s no Clooney.
Growing up in Hong Kong, Dr. William Cheung was always fascinated by the ocean and its vastness, beauty and abundance of life.
The UBC boundary with Marine Drive is a popular route for pedestrians, cyclists and drivers, many of whom are members of the university community — but are its recent safety improvements enough to make the stretch significantly safer and address community concerns?
Sinclair died on November 4 at 73 at a Winnipeg hospital surrounded by his family.
To my daughter.