i used to write poetry
photos | niagara falls, ontario
you’ve never been one to shout from the rooftops. for some people, joy rises like a hot air balloon released from its hold and if they don’t scream, they might die. but for you, joy pools downward, making oceans at your feet, wrinkling your toes. you’re aging in your happiness. it’s a silent wading in the water but we can hear it all the way from here.
one of my favourite places in korea is beneath yanghwa bridge. i only went once and it was by accident. i had just finished a roll of film and i regretted not bringing more because it was golden hour and the light was unreal. there were men fishing, skateboarders, dog walkers, people sitting on benches waiting for something, maybe waiting for nothing. sometimes when i think about this place i want to cry, but i’m not sure why this is. it was really beautiful.
sometimes she still feels like someone pulled the plug in the tub right in the middle of her bath and when the water went down the drain, she went right along with it and has been stuck there ever since. she’s not there anymore but sometimes still she wakes up in the middle of the night and worries about who will blow out the candles while she’s gone.
my favourite cafe in vancouver sells ginger cookies in the shape of totoro (his stomach is shortbread). i don’t love the taste of this cookie, but i do love totoro so sometimes when i go there i’ll buy one for myself and it always feels like a treat.