There is a particular feeling of reverence and fear I get when in the presence of greatness.
“Strand’s poems resonate with a shimmering sense of the infinite that befits his stature…His apparently simple lines have the eerie, seductive ring of the inevitable” – New York Times Book Review
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I first met Lendl Barcelos by the fountain in the Place Saint Sulpice. This is the same square that Perec exhausts in his book Tentative d’épuisement d’un lieu Parisien, but this is not important.
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I became an honourary member of the Suetude Society on a fortuitous, albeit slightly random, trip to Scotland. A week before leaving, I activated my dormant CouchSurfing account: it was through this that I met the Secretary and founding member of the Society: Topher Dawson, and his lovely family.
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Holiday Rambler is the everyman that died long ago, the tradition your grandparents remembered, but your parents discarded. Utilizing no more than can be carried alone, he sings forgotten histories over vernacular guitar accompaniment.
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Born in Macau and raised in Thornhill, Tings Chak chose Hamilton, Ontario, for a home for her university years. Her graphic novella, Where the Concrete Desert Blooms, tells the stories of Hamilton – the hammer, steel city, lunch bucket town – through its history, intimate interviews with its residents.
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