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A not-so-thrilling tale of a goal foregone. It was a year ago that, with very little forethought and based on nothing more than a whim, I took up the piano. I announced this to Gyan and the dog and promptly took the TTC over to Long and McQuade’s to poke around their rental section. The salesperson asked me if I was looking to rent a 61-key or 88-key piano. I told her that, quite frankly, I had no idea what the difference was, but that it sounded like I might be missing out w

About the time I ran a marathon Despite not enjoying it much, I swam all throughout childhood. The activity was in part tainted by all the para-aquatic elements. I hated having to leave my remarkably thick glasses in the locker, to then drag my hand along metal, then concrete, until I finally reached the smooth, cold tile framing the pool. Then there were the obstacles standing between me and the chance to relieve my myopia with the refractive properties of water. The year of

A note about publishing my first book A couple of weeks ago the UPS guy showed up with a mystery box. Gyan and I have been in the middle of repairs and small updates to make the new place a bit cozier. Curtains, non-oxidized sink pipes, mouse proofing, you know, the usual stuff. Having hoisted the box into the apartment, I cut through the tape and pulled on the carboard flaps, expecting some steel wool and duct tape. Instead, I found this: From Griffin to Axolotl: Reimagining

Where the senses are overpowered and bike baskets are overfilled I was pedalling along my usual commute route, absent mindedly following a woman cycling in an emerald-green dress, when I approached Manning Avenue and felt my usual dilemma arise. To Bloor Fruit Market or not to Bloor Fruit Market? Few institutions in Toronto have as strong a gravitational pull as the Bloor Fruit Market. During the summer, the siren’s call is particularly strong, the smell of strawberries and p