"And I see rivers of stars and the wide sea with its sad voice, and emerald fish fluttering on the sea bottom, glad to be themselves. And bell towers and blue forests, and a store window filled with hats. A burnt foot like the inside of a plum. A lice comb with two nits. The lace hem of a woman’s dress. The violet smoke from a cigarette. A boy urinating into a tin. The milky eyes of a blind man. The chipped finger of a San Isidro statue. The tawny bellies of dark women giving life. And more lives and more blood, those being born as well as those dying, the ones who ask questions and the ones who keep quiet, the days of grief and all the flower colors of joy.
[…]
My sky, my life, my eyes. Let me look at you. Before you open those eyes of yours. The days to come, the days gone by. Before we go back to what we’ll always be."
- Sandra Cisneros, Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories, "Eyes of Zapata"
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
i think it's particularly idiotic of cenovus to refer to the alberta oil sands as a prime example of "canadian innovation"
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
little shop of horrors
in league with my unease and my thinning hair - two recent nightmares
a child stumbles upon another, dead.. frozen on a rock
the man who is so miserable i let him beat me until it passes
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
- lithuania - the accidental country of my birth
- russia - the country of my birth, for political reasons - the same that made its language my first as well as that of my belorussian parents
- canada - my adoptive country; responsible for shaping my temperament, personality, behaviour
- iran - the country of my friends and loved ones; the constant, unattainable presence of my life
- russia - the country of my birth, for political reasons - the same that made its language my first as well as that of my belorussian parents
- canada - my adoptive country; responsible for shaping my temperament, personality, behaviour
- iran - the country of my friends and loved ones; the constant, unattainable presence of my life
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
i'm so proud of you for speaking out against this absurd, illogical reasoning that argues having children is an imperative, not a choice; that assumes the world should bend over backwards to accommodate a mother simply for having chosen to be a mother instead of appreciating a nice gesture for what it is: a gesture, not a given, not an obligation.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
the blizzard that was
halifax beckoned in late november with a conference for one and a much-needed change of scenery for the other. we booked separately and anticipated a flight practicing our telepathic communication but were offered adjoining seats by a nice lady who must have noticed the desperation in my face.
all was well... except for the fact that we hadn't packed a snack. so our trip began in earnest when, in a hunger born of domestic flights, we ran to the first place we could find open on a sunday night. i wondered, as we returned to the hotel, why a diner would even bother with fettuccini alfredo, when their sauce was clearly afraid of their pasta, or with a veggie burger that lost its identity when it made the informed decision to roll around in bacon grease. had we walked up the other side of the street we would have stumbled into a boston pizza or one of several decent-looking pubs. alas, it was not to be.
the next day i discovered that monday at harbourfront was sunday - part ii; also, that boat tours had ended in october. it's too cold? i asked. the lady gave me a polite, incredulous, oh, yes! i decided to take the 5-minute ferry to dartmouth just to feel the sensation of water.. found little on the other side.. lost feeling in my fingers.. and returned. nonetheless, we decided to repeat the trip together that evening.
later we dined at Salty's, where it became clear that nova scotia salmon was like no other salmon on the planet; where everything tasted like its ingredients, as food should; where the service was human and the waves glimmered under the moonlight. we agreed that the incredible beauty of the water was comparable only to that of the people, whose warmth and thoughtfulness were beyond compare.
we didn't explore much, on account of work.. we prepared to leave..
and then came the storm.
the pre-christmas miracle that wasn't
all morning the snow had fallen heavily, beautifully across the water. it gradually lost that beauty in the early afternoon when it began to delay flights, causing a panic-stricken and irritated crowd to congregate at the doors of the marriott. having checked out of our room at 3pm in order to catch a 9pm flight, we found ourselves stranded in the frigid cold, all of two feet from the entrance, waiting for a cab. 30 minutes later, a lone survivor drove up with the news that both roads to the airport were blocked by massive collisions - there was no getting out that night. we returned to our room for re-booking and managed to find the last spots on two separate flights out the next morning.
at 4am, a silent, snowy wall of evergreens off the highway was witness to our departure. at 5am an angel at the customer service desk booked us on the same flight through ottawa, with no additional charge, despite the fact that i initially failed to take the hint, being too concerned about the existence of a layover to recognize the favour.
when the 9am flight was delayed an hour due to the non-appearance of the pilot, we realized that we'd never catch the 10am connection. when our names were called, i experienced a minor stroke: oh my god, what do they want? are we not booked? are we terrorists? apparently we had been magically transferred to the 11am out of ottawa and i was certain that our lady of the ticket desk was involved. relief, it was, and merriment, until, flying out of halifax at 11am, we heaved two deep sighs and promptly passed out.
delays snowballed in ottawa (pun intended), at which point i gave up trying to keep my parents up to date. we'll get there.. when we get there. 12, 1 and 2pm all passed in disappointment. when we finally landed in toronto around 4:30pm, the relief of seeing our luggage made my legs go weak. farzaneh was convinced that the poor thing had been there since morning, rotating.. rotating.. with no end in sight.
and there, at the carousel, ended our tale of the blizzard that was and the pre-christmas miracle that wasn't.
all was well... except for the fact that we hadn't packed a snack. so our trip began in earnest when, in a hunger born of domestic flights, we ran to the first place we could find open on a sunday night. i wondered, as we returned to the hotel, why a diner would even bother with fettuccini alfredo, when their sauce was clearly afraid of their pasta, or with a veggie burger that lost its identity when it made the informed decision to roll around in bacon grease. had we walked up the other side of the street we would have stumbled into a boston pizza or one of several decent-looking pubs. alas, it was not to be.
the next day i discovered that monday at harbourfront was sunday - part ii; also, that boat tours had ended in october. it's too cold? i asked. the lady gave me a polite, incredulous, oh, yes! i decided to take the 5-minute ferry to dartmouth just to feel the sensation of water.. found little on the other side.. lost feeling in my fingers.. and returned. nonetheless, we decided to repeat the trip together that evening.
later we dined at Salty's, where it became clear that nova scotia salmon was like no other salmon on the planet; where everything tasted like its ingredients, as food should; where the service was human and the waves glimmered under the moonlight. we agreed that the incredible beauty of the water was comparable only to that of the people, whose warmth and thoughtfulness were beyond compare.
we didn't explore much, on account of work.. we prepared to leave..
and then came the storm.
the pre-christmas miracle that wasn't
all morning the snow had fallen heavily, beautifully across the water. it gradually lost that beauty in the early afternoon when it began to delay flights, causing a panic-stricken and irritated crowd to congregate at the doors of the marriott. having checked out of our room at 3pm in order to catch a 9pm flight, we found ourselves stranded in the frigid cold, all of two feet from the entrance, waiting for a cab. 30 minutes later, a lone survivor drove up with the news that both roads to the airport were blocked by massive collisions - there was no getting out that night. we returned to our room for re-booking and managed to find the last spots on two separate flights out the next morning.
at 4am, a silent, snowy wall of evergreens off the highway was witness to our departure. at 5am an angel at the customer service desk booked us on the same flight through ottawa, with no additional charge, despite the fact that i initially failed to take the hint, being too concerned about the existence of a layover to recognize the favour.
when the 9am flight was delayed an hour due to the non-appearance of the pilot, we realized that we'd never catch the 10am connection. when our names were called, i experienced a minor stroke: oh my god, what do they want? are we not booked? are we terrorists? apparently we had been magically transferred to the 11am out of ottawa and i was certain that our lady of the ticket desk was involved. relief, it was, and merriment, until, flying out of halifax at 11am, we heaved two deep sighs and promptly passed out.
delays snowballed in ottawa (pun intended), at which point i gave up trying to keep my parents up to date. we'll get there.. when we get there. 12, 1 and 2pm all passed in disappointment. when we finally landed in toronto around 4:30pm, the relief of seeing our luggage made my legs go weak. farzaneh was convinced that the poor thing had been there since morning, rotating.. rotating.. with no end in sight.
and there, at the carousel, ended our tale of the blizzard that was and the pre-christmas miracle that wasn't.
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