JILL
I discovered my special skills when I was probably still a brat – was that Grade 6? Ages back. That was Season One Jill.
I’m kneeling amongst the reeds in Cruickshank Park, by the shore, listening to the water break against the stones of the terrace over my shoulder, white noise. Cancelling. An ur-mother’s voice: sssssssssshhhhhhhhh. Trying to chill without getting my sneakers soaked. Found some oranges in a thin plastic bag discarded in the grass, dropped by a girl named Quincy during a school trip to study the Humber ecosystem last Thursday. Young and blissfully assured on her ride through the industrial conveyor of education.
This is my kind of meditation.
Flow. Sssssssssshhhhhhhhh. Peeling an orange.
Should I be sharing any of this with Mr. Hey? Sure.
Interesting you’re in a
