b r i g h t

Winter in Canada can be, at times, seriously depressing. Once daylight savings has passed (when we jump our clocks back an hour in order to have more morning sunlight) the sun sets at approximately 4:00...When I leave work around 5:00 and it's as dark as midnight, it feels eerily like being in a time warp. What's even stranger is how this seems to bother me now, whereas in years past I could have cared less (and even relished the darkness more than the light).

[The night is dark and full of terrors].

*

Last Halloween was the first one that Josh and I spent together; we'd been dating for a little over a month and the party which we attended was the first major event where I would meet all of his friends. I made Josh's requested costume: a sunflower/dandelion. He wore green tights and a green ladies t-shirt from Joe Fresh (which I got to keep, hooray!) and the lovely headdress pictured above. I glued plastic flowers all over a decapitated hoodie hood for him; the hat is incredibly, surprisingly snuggly and we both joke about wearing it for a winter hat.

It's objects and memories like these that help me through the darkness.

s n a p s h o t . i n . t h e . d a r k

j u s t . d a n c e

Crowds have become a crazy source of stress for me lately; I mainly blame the TTC for this and the daily hours which I now spend navigating stations in rush hour, getting trapped in turnstiles and shoved by strangers. It used to be that I'd shrug while someone else expressed their distress at visiting crowded locales — now I feel disoriented and slightly panicked when I'm faced with them.

It's not the being trapped that I fear; I think instead, it's the watchful eyes of people that I don't know and accidental collisions which make me nervous. I don't want to be the cause of displeasure; I don't want to be out of place or a nuisance.

Ironically, the crowd at a night club calms me; there in the darkness, I can lose myself amongst the bodies and pulsating noise. The semi-hedonistic ritual of dancing with reckless abandon is utterly freeing for me; albeit not foolproof, more often than not the mixture of obscurity and deafening music relieves me of every worry, every doubt and all of my unnecessarily self-imposed rules for polite behavior . In those anonymous moments, I can stop being the girl who ruins everyone's fun with her anxiety and simply be fun-girl.

•

I was a late bloomer in terms of youthful things like alcohol and partying. It wasn't until I was in my early twenties that I allowed my cousin to convince me to join her for a night out of drinking and dancing. I still remember the feeling of my awkward self-consciousness slowly abating as I stood at the edge of a room lit by red lights, watching as the crowd meandered in; there was a girl, dressed in schoolgirl blouse and kilt, dancing alone on the empty floor. She had her eyes closed and she moved with confidence and complete nonchalance; at the time I laughed, but now I am that girl.

s l e e p

After reading The Outlaws of Sherwood at a young age, I became enamoured with the notion of sleeping outdoors and secret homes underneath the trees.  Robin and Marin in the woods in the dark, sharing pure, stolen moments amidst pervasive melancholy and dread: that's romance.

Forests are for lovers.

n i g h t . d r i v e

 

 

s t a r s

Digitally coloured drawing, 2013.

*

She is who she wants to be, goes where she pleases, achieved all of her dreams—when her eyes are closed.

h i g h . h o p e s

l i t t l e . l i g h t

Whenever I pass by a window, I can't help but look inside--especially at night. Walking past in the dusk or darkness, they glow seductively, little golden glimpses into another world.

*

I recall a conversation in winter, when I was four or five: my father sitting on the edge of my bed one night and telling me how to break my window (with the miniature blonde-wood chair from my desk set) and escape in case of fire. I imagined myself hopping through knee-high snow in my nightgown; I tried to summon up the strength that such a task necessitated, and wondered if I ever could.

*

Five years later: on summer nights when high-winds rendered me too anxious for sleep, I sought comfort in the noise and light of television. Nestled on the plaid couch in our family living room, I focused my eyes on the screen and willed myself not to glance towards the far side of the room with its wide windows; beyond the peeling paint of those aged wood frames was the wide open sky, tinged an unnatural pink. In front, there stood a long table of heavy, antique wood which was laden with plants whose silhouettes were only just visible against the glass.  

I remember the angry howl of the wind coming down the chimney and the ominous sight of skeleton branches dancing wildly against the clouds.

*

On another summer evening, in young-adulthood: walking through quiet neighborhoods with someone that I had feelings for, the mood casual yet confusing. As we meandered past quaint houses on lush, tree-lined streets, I passingly peeked into open windows; I wondered if the people who lived within were happy. As the sun set and nature turned cool grey and blue, I wanted to be inside the golden light of those bright homes and the life that they embodied.