The living room saw wars and alliances, a history only known to the citizens of the great tiny country that was held between those very walls. The sisterly fights over clothes, the friends that turn into public enemies in my grandma's eyes if they dare to set an eye on her daughters.
The Freelance Excavator
There was a sense of honor that she's walking in the steps of her ancestors from millions of years ago. As badly as she wanted to analyze the carvings and potentially find something that had not been recorded, she wanted to get to the end of the tunnel to see what made the archeologists stop even more.
Hyacinthos
If I had a heart with which to love him even more, I am not sure how I would survive even seconds without him by my side. I am happy that I do not have a heart with which to love him, because absence can no longer make my heart grow fonder.
Treasure Chest
Now, as I look fondly at them, I realise even if they were laid to rest, their importance still lingers every time I decide it’s time to let them go. I suddenly understand hoarders and their reluctance, and I see now I am no different.
Hidden Valley
My eyes shoot open to a stark white ceiling and dim lighting, palms sweaty and chest tight. The suction cups and needles, attaching my arms and legs to the simulation equipment, feel sticky and sharp, and the leather pullout chair I’m on suddenly feels like I’m sitting on needles.
A Dream State
I find a tombstone that is unmarked, or perhaps so faded by time and neglect that it may as well be. The plot has been recaptured by nature; no doubt aided by the body below as it fed this overgrowth.
Living the Best of Both Worlds
Often change comes when one is done putting up with what they believe they no longer deserve, maybe never did. But for that to happen, the sphere of pessimism must evoke a desire for a life of optimism.
Death of Superficial Love
Because of his perceived love for her, he spent every waking day and night lying in bed alone, looking out of his bedroom window and knowing that she was out there, loving someone else, and spending fruitful nights in this new lover’s arms; he, on the other hand, grieved the loss of her from his day-to-day life, wishing that her love for another were not true.
White Paint
I learned from him that adults are confused about everything, they just don't like to show it because they’re embarrassed.
Through My Dog’s Eyes
One of my earliest memories is of being ripped away from the only world I knew—my mom, dad, and all my brothers and sisters gone forever, it seemed.
Artist Spotlight: Jasmine Cowan
The featured artist for this edition of HLR Spotlight is Jasmine Cowan, a student in the Visual & Digital Arts program, which is part of Humber’s Faculty of Media & Creative Arts.
One Last Wish...
You never realize how good you have it until it’s too late. One day you could have everything and everyone you wanted in your life. The next it could be all gone, and you cannot do anything about it.
A Fight in Two Cages
I couldn’t put my finger on why he trained so hard. Whenever I asked him, he would shrug off my question and say, “I have to look out for my family.”
Microdosing Wild
So, four years later, in another restless summer with my up-north trip just days away, I turned back to Wild.
Demetria and Me
I’ve seen so much, but I don’t feel wise. My brain is a dizzy mess of too many memories.
A Pandemic Summer
Who would have thought that the best decision I could’ve ever made was to jump out of a bedroom window in the farthest corner of my great-aunt’s house and run as fast and as far as I could?
Conversations That Changed My World
Even though we shared the same culture and beliefs, we were very different, starting with the obvious: the colour of my skin.
The Faulty Path Out of Perfectionism
My body was still and shrunk like a wilting flower, hugging itself gently, compensating for the bitter battle I was losing inside.
A Tale of a House and Two Babies
It starts with a house in the heart of the French Quarter in New Orleans; or rather, it starts with a baby born in that house in 1858, because doesn’t every story begin with a baby?
A Story of Growing Up: Life lessons learned from a pink jacket, a bowl of potato salad, and Forrest Gump
I had a mission: to replace my identity as the quiet girl with something else. Anything else, really. But I didn’t have quite a lot to be known for.