It was the last house on the south side of King Street before a little open space and Roncesvalles marking the edge of gentrification. I was so young. So naive. So raw. Things were so big, so full of feeling, so dramatic, so careless. I made mistakes, and learned, and I didn't care if I made another.
Confessions of a writer
Before you say it, please allow me. I broke my promise. The one about me writing something new every Thursday without fail. Well, if you look carefully, you'll notice I skipped a week and today is not a Thursday. So what happened? Why did I stop? The answer is simple. In the words of my... Continue Reading →