Home use to be a place that once I entered through the door, all worries about school and people slipped off my body like raindrops on Gore-Tex.
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Google Maps is quite the tool. Just last week I perused my childhood home noting it was bluer than it’d been.
Home takes time to build and rebuild, to find and to treasure, to believe and then to feel.
I’m home now, I wasn’t before.
My job is not to teach you how to be a house guest.
A few short weeks before my graduation in May 2016, the wind started blowing a little harder in a different direction, and twenty-foot flames started eating up my town. Trees burned, gas stations exploded, and 70,000 people clamoured to get away.
I am made among these peaks.
It would be too easy to be uprooted by the mishaps of life if I wasn’t constantly surrounded by an inspiring environment or a place where I felt belonging.
how can I daydream about a place that is real.
I once wished to soak the walls of my home.
I’m done with giving simple responses.
Maybe home is not a rainbow, but a storm. Maybe home is accepting you forgot your rain jacket and letting the cold seep into your skin and awakening something, something, that lives within all of us.
Any place in the world where for even a moment, I feel like I can breathe.
Between rows of rolling walls in the basement of the Nest are 71 works of art by some of the most celebrated Canadian artists in history. This is the AMS permanent collection and it’s been around since the 1950s.
Cheung created Bagels with Ben, an initiative where he invites students from his classes to eat bagels each week and to talk about life in a casual, low-stakes environment outside of class time.