The world is a beautiful place. We share it like apple pie  A robust, honey-dripped slice  Through community we rise  We thrive  A million lightning bolts from our eyes Through coalescence, we grow sturdy and wise  We clasp hands in unity and hope  Fingers intertwined, braided like ravishing rope  A bright future, a road paved in gold  Soles on the ground, souls to behold  \ Hearts burst with tenderness  Grab it with your hands, pull it from your chest Put kindness in a basket and place it on your neighbour’s welcome mat  Make time for a friendly chat  Lend sugar and love, offer compassion and care  Pick fresh flowers, tuck…

I live for peaceful moments by the lake midday during summer, the gratifying feel of spring rays on frigid cheeks,  rivalling the shy blush of peeking tulips  after months of hibernation. I love the solemn nights I share with a good book during the rainy fall, the floating feeling  in my tingling toes after taking off ski boots  on a snowy afternoon after the slopes, the furious love I feel for loved ones,  pointed fingers and arguments and all, the ongoing, unspoken conversations maintained with friends  regardless of distance,  our spontaneity and their unwavering support  hovering from afar. I’m grateful for this body of which I don’t always approve, that…

Food and family are tightly interwoven across cultures to celebrate tradition, family and most importantly, gratitude. Without the touch of love passed down from one another, our memories surrounding food would not exist. More than a means of nourishment, it is a language. It has evolved from specific preparation techniques, the chef(s) and ingredients that speak to the richness of our cultural identity. Preparing food is a ceremony of gratitude for ourselves and our loved ones, deeply embedded with our complex histories. It helps us be creative in our self-expression while sharing our values with others.  When I think of my favourite dishes, I am always reminded of my mother…

we fall, sheltering our brimming bones in our hands with the tips of our antiseptic, reddened fingers, again and again and again, our bodies, our ever-travelling, changing homes, readying themselves for another wicked winter wave as the maples shed their fire in spoonfuls over our heads, kids grabbing at them giddily, in handfuls. uncertainty tickles chills on prickled skin as the cold creeps in, darkness stagnant in minds that lull  on repeat, radio static in flickering, monochrome backgrounds. the channels change, the story repeating itself in hypnotic, robotic loops. are you human? check these boxes to prove it. once whispered, joy-filled bedtime stories echo emptily in desolate, overcrowded spaces, bad…

A white whale—I swim in its mouth all year  A darkened room, a maze made of keepsakes  A mauve turtleneck, tight around the shoulders  Cracked, plastic champagne flutes Your fingers trace my collarbones until they meet in the middle A burlap sack race that ends in a tie  My neck snapped and nobody noticed, I propped it up with a metal rod and a roll of masking tape,  A makeshift body, broken,  Burnt palms in lace gloves Cover rock bottom with a flashy rug and maybe they won’t notice.  I was a snake with its tail in its mouth, a cycle too comfortable to break  Now, Suspicious peace, a buoy…

Longing: the recognition of what could or what would have been if the circumstances were different. Whirlwind: the intensity of emotions and inner chaos that was felt when everything came to a standstill.  Enchantment: finding the delight in the motion, murmurings and the unknown.  Living in Technicolour was an event showcase that explored senses, emotions and feelings associated with grasping the new realities that we live in. Longing, whirlwind and enchantment were the main themes of the show and each artist involved represented one or all of the themes throughout their work.  Kensington Kreators provided a grant to the Living in Technicolour collective to support the businesses, artists and performers…

While walking the streets of the GTA you will see an array of styles that individuals use to express themselves. This photo essay is a collection of photos taken over the course of two weeks. Each photo, different from the rest, explores each individual’s aesthetic and how they differ from each other. The purpose of this photo essay is to acknowledge the various ways people choose to express themselves through fashion while appreciating it at the same time. Ebbie expresses his love for fashion with his African print jacket. The jacket was made by Jennifer S. Henry, a local designer in Brampton. The brown beanie matching his brown sweater complements…

My body is made from the hundreds of other females before me, who managed to stand in a world so twisted. I am made of the arms that were sacrificed from harsh labor in the fields, arms that shielded above their heads from the abuse, arms that held tight to protect and love. I am made of their brown skin,  delicate and warm, drawing in the sun. I am made of their lips, that used to hesitate, silenced for speaking out their mind. Proud but bruised for standing for their sisters. Now I am those lips, I am those silent words from driven deep into their heart, small but loud…

There once was a small olive girl so shy When she spoke, there was a subtle sweet papaya honey in her voice. She used to laze under the shade of the forest that was her home, Made from colourful trees stuffed with yellow bananas, rouge mangos, pink rambutan And millions of blinking star fruit at night lighting up her universe in the dark. She was born in the August garden of orchids and jasmines, Decorating her hair so long it reached her hips With eyes so dark she attracted all the world’s lights to her And olive skin so tan from the sun  Working hard on the farms made of…

We were told to stay down and keep to ourselves Planted in toxic soil Watered by poisonous words and bruised by jealous hands. We were told we could only grow here, Locked behind our glass homes Hoping that the world would appear as beautiful If we could pretend to see it But never touch it. But we are not the same, we are not less than or more We resist, we are opportunists. We don’t know where to go So we took our roots and left Pushing for flowers even on desert land We are wild and untamed. We will not be afraid to chase the sun in an awkward…

I captured these photos to showcase the peaceful and powerful protests, rallies and marches I attended in the later half of 2020.  The protests and rallies I went to included A Black Lives Matter protest that took place in Toronto, Mississauga and Brampton, as well as a rally and march to support the Indigenous Land Defenders.  My family is not from Canada, but I understand that I am white representing. That alone gives me privilege. Because of this, I found it my duty to attend these gatherings of solidarity and to listen to what racialized communities had to say. I encourage those who have similar privileges as me to do…

I have somewhat mixed feelings when it comes to winter. There are moments when I wish it would just end, due to the uncomfortable moments it can bring.  These moments include: 1. Waking up in the morning and going outside, only to find yourself surrounded by darkness and the cold wind  2. Waiting for unreliable public transportation when it’s -20 degrees and windy, for 25 to 30+ minutes (we’ve all been there)  3. Walking ever so slowly and carefully on the street so you don’t slip on black ice Despite moments like these, I am also reminded that I experience the coziest moments that cannot be replicated in any other…

Touch and closeness possess the power to make a moment significantly more special, whether it is through a small gesture or simply being physically close to another person.  Touch is used to comfort, and to express affection and joy. It is truly its own way to communicate one’s feelings and emotions, while having an impact that transcends language. This idea is one that I had taken for granted during life before COVID-19. Through its absence and the enforcement of social distancing, I have only recently come to realize its impact on the intimacy of a relationship.  This series of film pictures are made more special through the gift of touch…

Time has been moving differently these days, slower and yet somehow much faster, but maybe we remember time moving differently because we all took it for granted before. I know I did. This year I have watched people lose their dream jobs, lose their houses, miss births and funerals, postpone big milestones; I have seen the strongest of people start to slowly unravel. I have watched friends die, experience trauma, grieve loved ones, lose loves and fights, and pieces of themselves; I have watched the struggle to live in this new reality take away life-sustaining supports. But I have also been lucky enough to watch two people I care about…