Dating, Interviews, Seniors
The Valentine That Never Was
“After all these years I can finally say it: “I love you.” ...continue reading
It’s the details that stick, listening to her remember. The cautious way she’d enter the dark room to brush her grandmother’s knotted hair, holding her breath for the inevitable tug and the reprimand that followed.
“After all these years I can finally say it: “I love you.”
“After the Battle of Ortona and after the Battle of Monte Cassino 3 and we stood where we buried our people, right there. In Ortona we buried about 55 in the church yard…Looking at all these graves makes you wonder what it’s all about.”
“Dating your dominatrix is like dating your heroine dealer: you could go out and see a movie, but instead you decide to stay in and get beat up again.”
“Hey, Nellie, catch this!” A large cowpat flew in her direction. She saw it coming in slow motion; she looked at it calmly, as if it was something that had nothing to do with her. ...continue reading
John Picken reclined back on the cat-hair covered chair he bought at Costco. ...continue reading
“After all these years I can finally say it: “I love you.” ...continue reading
My dating career in Vancouver started with a dare and ended one week later with a love letter. ...continue reading
Our parents had love letters and arranged marriages. We have sexting and online dating. ...continue reading
Olga Godim’s translation of a passage from her Russian grandmother’s diary about love, sex, and getting what you want out of life. ...continue reading
Alicia Wooding navigates the Vancouver ballroom dancing scene. ...continue reading
Bollywood conjures up many images of spectacular dance numbers, opulent sets, hyperbolic acting and general mindless fun. Since the beginning of Indian cinema, religion and faith have influenced the story lines that create the largest film industry in the world today. ...continue reading
“Hey, Nellie, catch this!” A large cowpat flew in her direction. She saw it coming in slow motion; she looked at it calmly, as if it was something that had nothing to do with her. ...continue reading
The billowing white sheets gently moving in the warm air of the attic, like sails of the ships on the ocean, could not tell the story of a tragedy in times of war. ...continue reading
It’s the details that stick, listening to her remember. The cautious way she’d enter the dark room to brush her grandmother’s knotted hair, holding her breath for the inevitable tug and the reprimand that followed. ...continue reading
“After all these years I can finally say it: “I love you.” ...continue reading