The unspoken codes of the Canadian school community seeped into my life over the next few weeks. I particularly enjoyed Mr Van Reemer’s English class which was held in the school library. He asked the class to prepare a talk on their favourite book. Out of curiosity or maybe vague remembrance, I picked up The Diary of Anne Frank  and devoured it. The day came for my turn to speak and the students sat lined along tables set up in a U-shape in the library. They jostled, leanin

The saying goes, ‘you can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family’. Roman and I chose each other. We clicked, but not in...

Julian Burnside asking 'What Sort of Country Are We?' ,Wir sind alle Ausländer. Fast überall' 'We are all foreigners. Almost everywhere'...

Write hot, edit cold. Write drunk, edit sober — Ernest Hemingway After decades of random scratchings I gave myself permission to become a...

Montebore, Piemonte, Italy set to evocative music Dazzling sunlight played on our faces as we drove ever upwards, following first this turn then the next. From high in the clouds, the sweeping valley below and the magical village of Montebore—famous for its cheese—floated in and out of view, and goats’ bells chimed in the autumn breeze. Upon reaching the rugged, windswept peak, we wound up the windows and slid deeper and deeper into the silent obscurity of a dense, swirling

Each night I’m happily ensconced in my bed with Alec Baldwin. Let me clarify. I’m in bed with him; he’s not in bed with me. Given the...