Lily Was Here by David A. Stewart and Candy Dulfer

David A. Stewart wrote: I played the four-note opening melody and Candy answered on sax. I then played the whole melody sequence with Candy answering every phrase with her own little twists and turns. After a whole sequence of the melody I nodded to Candy to take the lead and she played a very memorable melodic solo of which I remember every note. One more nod and she knew to end it. I repeated the melody again with Candy answering, and we continued once around then swapped lead licks for a minute longer and that was it! We mixed the song in five to ten minutes straight after, so the whole process from conception to final mix took around fifteen minutes.

Bento Box

2 decks bento box from a thrift shop $5.99

for single serving

for dinner

or party

The future remain bright...

as long as we believe in art.

as long as we believe in culture.

as long as we believe in beauty.

as long as we believe in stars.

Traveling light...

Amélie doesn't carry a purse. She reaches her pocket for francs, for skimming stones, a pen and a notebook… but no purse, no Louis Vitton, Channel, Gucci, no what-so-ever designer bag. And the film is French, huh? Talk about traveling light, I love to do the same, for real, let's see… debit card, library card, driver's licence, health card, sunglass, camera, cellphone, umbrella (a must item in Vancouver)…

If I had to do the same again...

Once upon a time… we were young, we were lost, we were drunk, we were singing out loud ABBA's Fernando and we fell on snow. There were nothing there but snow. We were under a lot of pressure, assignments, exams, parent's expectation, student loans….. but the northern Ontario sky was full of stars, bright bright stars. 
"If I had to do the same again I would, my friend…"

Fall upon us

It doesn't matter what you call it, autumn or fall is my favourite season of all. There's something so perfect about a windless day when the light streams through the canopy and everything is basked in a honeyed glow. And, like spring, fall comes with this sense of fleetingness that makes enjoying it such an urgent imperative. Summer days can be basked in, but fall's shortening days command you to hoard and relish. Now that the clocks have gone back, I really feel it slipping away. But as long as the leaves cling to the trees, I'll cling to days like these.

Another day has ended

I read and write every day. I'm miserable if I don't. This, I know, will sound, very very strange, while I read and write but it's for a moment as if I've forgotten that there is anything beyond the here and now. Just as there exists in writing a literal truth and a poetic truth, there also exists in a human being a literal anatomy and a poetic anatomy. One you can see, one you cannot. One is made of bones and teeth and flesh; the other is made of energy and memory and faith. But they are both equally true.
Here at 7 o'clock in the evening, I realize this is how each day should end, in the fading sunset light, and my fingers still on the keys of my laptop…