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After watching the documentary Come See Me in the Good Light—a vivid love story chronicling the final years of poet Andrea Gibson’s life as they fought ovarian cancer and prepared for a last spoken-word performance––I wanted to hold her voice in my hands.
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For me, one of life’s great joys will always be discovering a song that makes sense of the moment in time I find myself existing in. Whether that moment calls for raucous dancing, ugly crying or an urgent rally cry. Indeed, it is the latter I gravitate towards these days. Once I find that perfect feeling encapsulated in song, I play it on repeat for weeks.
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If I were to choose a last book to finish off my life with the way one might choose a last meal, I’d choose Anne-Marie Turza’s The Quiet. Even after years of rereading, I’m still moved to think and look and breathe differently after spending time with it, asked to attune to smaller, overlooked orders of life.
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"Over weeks, months, or years, exposure to increased secretion of stress hormones can result in allostatic load and its pathophysiologic consequences," explains Bruce S. McEwen*.
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I’ve been rereading Peter Carey’s brilliant novel, The Unusual Life of Tristan Smith (1994).
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“Tell me, what is there left to become?” Farah Ghafoor asks in her debut poetry collection, Shadow Price
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One of my favourite childhood books turns 100 this year! Fortunately, I own three copies so I can celebrate in style. I acquired my first copy of L.M.
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For my birthday this year, I bought Michael Ondaatje’s A Year of Last Things.
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Notes on Ada Lea’s “When I Paint My Masterpiece”
