We want things we cannot have. We seek to reclaim a certain moment, sound, sensation. I want to hear my mother’s voice. I want to see my children as children. Hands small, feet swift. Everything changes. Boy grown, father dead, daughter taller than me, weeping from a bad dream. Please stay forever, I say to the things I know. Don’t go. Don’t grow. – Patti Smith, M Train

I have no children to speak of, no husband to mourn, yet my soul responds as if it knew. How can I connect with such a passage, written by a woman 40 years my senior?

The melancholy of my soul from forever ago.




An interview with the filmmakers of “The Unspeakable Truth”

Listen to this. Yes.

CKUT 90.3 FM news collective blog


[audio https://ia902307.us.archive.org/26/items/unspeakabletruthFINAL/unspeakabletruthFINAL.mp3]

Click here to download audio

What does it mean to be gay and Haitian? The documentary project “The Unspeakable Truth”  examines this question by interviewing and telling the stories of members of the LGBT Haitian community in Montreal. Filmmakers Benjamin Gardere and Koralie Woodward were inspired by a photography project of Koralie’s where she took portraits of the Haitain LGBT community. After meeting their first subjects and hearing their stories, the pair knew they had to dig deeper and share their findings with the world. It became more than just portraits of a community; it needed to expand into the portrait of a culture. A short version of the film will be available in December.

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This is where I am.

For the first time, I think I can say that I am determined to get the hell out of that rut. I don’t know how yet, but I know it needs to happen. Fast. I spent the evening last Friday at my friend’s atelier, bought myself some watercolors and a notebook so I can reconnect with the physicality of creating an image on paper, something I don’t always have with photography. We had a wonderful meditation circle as a group and, in a moment I can only describe as bliss/release I burst out Laughing and crying and laughing. I could barely tell the difference. The water pouring out my eyes felt like an explosion of dirty sewer water, grainy and green. It was like cleaning out.

I am on a path that seems to be right. I feel like I still have the shackles I put myself on my feet, but I don’t pull on them with rage anymore. I feel like now, I am trying to find out where I put the key, so I can gently take them off and leap to the new adventure.

I have to remind myself to be grateful.

So right now, I feel like I am on a journey. Or at least preparing myself actively to go on a journey. A creative and spiritual journey. I read a lot about artists and their processes. I read about finding the creative in me. I have not written in a while, but I just did, right here.

This is where I am.