For us acrobats, it was a circus rule to choose our primary apparatus at the age of thirteen. The doors opened to the Big Top and I entered alone. The leftover sawdust on the floor stuck between my toes, the air scented with rain, instead of the usual smells of animal dung and stale popcorn. […] More »

We met them first near the hot food. The catering staff were serving a dim sum shrimp dumpling on a bed of rice at the near end of the table. The caterers must have brought hundreds of ramekins to the venue that night, there was an endless stream of them, a new one for each […] More »

When I was eight years old, my parents entrusted me with $16 in the form of eight $2 coins, an allowance for a school field trip to La Ronde, Montreal’s amusement park. Until 1996, the year during which the $2 tender in Canada was converted from a paper bill to a coin, my parents would […] More »

It’s actually pretty hard to construct a good lie. I learned this when I was sitting in a beige hospital chair, my skinny arm outstretched, purple at the spot where the wiry IV cord met my skin. I was in one of those Phase 0 studies for money, the kind where you have to stop […] More »

I like working at the konbini because it convinces me I’m good and nice. Here, I’m a secondary character. I help people feed themselves and pay their bills and send mail. I don’t get into trouble. I never take off my uniform. I even wear it to bed. The armpits of the white blouse are […] More »

The noisy blender whirred, its blades rotating rapidly, crushing the brown beans for the steamed moi moi that Jide, her boyfriend, liked. Ogechukwu placed her hand on top to prevent it from moving as it juddered on the kitchen counter, the vibrations taking her back to a time when such electronics were forbidden at home, mainly […] More »

Maybe you remember Zora. I used to see her on St. Laurent selling jewellery and T-shirts and scraps of paper scribbled with art. In and out of bars and cafés, always alone, a storming shadow. Our eyes met once and I smiled. She stared, walked on. So, when I saw her on Sunday, sitting in […] More »

  There are few things left that I can still derive joy from, the night bus being one of them. Whenever I can’t sleep and feel terrible about the state of all things—which is often—I remember that I can just walk out of my apartment in the middle of the night and wait at the […] More »

Je m’appelle Reynaud. My mother named me. She was French. Other than her, I have never met anyone else who was French. No one else in this city is French. I don’t recall ever meeting my father. I am alone in a dead city. There are no more people here. People do not live in […] More »

A fleck of topsoil found its way onto Paloma’s middle finger. She rolled the dirt back and forth against her thumb, examining what was left of the cactus her mother delivered a few weeks before. Something for you to nurture, the note said. The crisp cursive script was centred on the scrap of a pharmacy […] More »

You still didn’t feel comfortable drinking in front of your parents. You texted “bless you” to Vikas, as he received your drink from Sumeet Uncle at the open but not self-serve bar. You then said the same words out loud when the cold glass met your sweaty palms. Vikas was your best friend and a […] More »