For…

I…

more humane than clubbing, it’s said, and it better maintains the quality of the meat...

They sit in their vehicles behind the Centre communautaire, high-beam headlights illuminating but a sliver of the temperamental Strait

This time, the call never came...

If I didn’t already know you, and we had just met...

Only some can see the possibilities in the everyday...

I want to go to a junkyard again with the old shiplap garage that has a potbellied stove in the corner...

I fear not your sting, though everlasting life holds no interest

Our free people will trample your tricolour rag, over and over, in the meadows where the bent red viburnum rises once again