
I write, and time listens.
Poem
We fight, we fight, we fight today, Shamboo mere Nath, Will you smile my way?
Poem
Of the primal wolf in me — are you really me? Is it you who give me thrill, is it you who give me will?
Photo
A study in blues. Notes from a cold shoreline.
Journal
Fragments: classes, coffee, and the view from Burnaby Mountain.
Quote
“Liberty is not the absence of obligations but the ability to choose.”