As I take a peek outside my home office window, there’s currently no snow in Montréal, but those of us who live in this part of the world know this will likely not be the case for much longer. It’s been a relatively mild autumn so far, but with winter on the horizon, I’m having a hard time figuring out how warmly to dress. It’s not quite fall anymore, but it’s also not yet officially winter. We’re existing in a strange in-between zone.
By Domenica Martinello
I lock fingers with myself, preteen. I offer up the underwire. I bounce and supple, drag and drop the pretense, steal. My fanny pack is plum, I smell all pungent and powdery. I return to puppy shampoo, milk and strawberries.
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