switching venues. from a grand, red booth to a dollar-bill-encrusted bar, which held even campari and bourbon alongside cup of noodles. then massive, majestic, yet ripped lantern above cough-syrup-coloured shots in thick, retro glasses. burns my throat before the chinese-plum leftover. friends talk. laugh. billie jean belts out from the garage-sale jukebox.
- Hi. I'm a freelance creative director, copywriter, and content strategist who lives in Toronto. These are my musings. I often review books, and sometimes films. Always I write about the things that make me go hmmm.