I hope the last few days treated you gently—whatever you celebrate, however you gather, whoever you are. I know this season can be soft and shimmering for some, heavy and hollow for others, and somewhere-in-between for most of us.

So, I wasn’t planning on writing tonight. I’d made myself a cup of chamomile tea—yes, I’m that person now, don’t judge—and stepped onto the balcony to watch the sunset because the skies over BC have been doing this thing lately where they pretend they’re in a slow-burn romance with the horizon. The whole city blushes for twenty minutes and then pretends nothing happened. Classic Vancouver.

The sky was clear but my weather wasn’t.

dentity—especially queer identity—is a series of shapes we grow into, or out of, or toward. Some days I feel like a smooth curve, easy and open. Other days I am an odd corner waiting for someone who sees beauty in asymmetry.

I’ve been thinking about weather lately. Not the kind you politely mention in a grocery store lineup—though if you ever want to earn my undying affection, please talk to me about the exact shade of green-blue the sky turns before a December downpour in Vancouver. That sea-glass turmoil that means: put your hood up, you fool.

After falling headfirst into Peter Darling (and then wandering around my apartment trying to recover like I’d just returned from Neverland with emotional jet lag), I picked up Coffee Boy by Austin Chant. It felt like the next logical step—like going from a sweeping, magical retelling to something more grounded, more human-sized, more… fluorescent-lit-office-politics gay.

The winter asks for nothing more, yet lays its cold against my spine. It murmurs through the silent bore, that all I’ve lost was never mine.

The holidays arrive in their usual costume— twinkling lights wrapped around old wounds like bandages pretending to be ribbons.

You know that thing where a playground memory just barges back into your brain, uninvited, like it’s still wearing muddy sneakers from 1996? Lately I’ve been thinking about recess at my old elementary school—the four-square court in particular.

On a rainy Vancouver day, the author finds themselves at a café, accidentally ordering an iced matcha instead of hot. While people-watching through the window, they reflect on the beauty of small, shared moments in a bustling city. This mix-up inspires thoughts on poetry found in everyday life and connections among strangers.

So, I just finished Peter Darling by Austin Chant, and wow. First: spoiler alert—I’ll try to keep this as spoiler-free as possible, but if you’re picky about plot reveals, maybe bookmark this for later.

So, I’ve been thinking for far too long about starting this blog… but then I realized tomorrow never shows up. Hello! I’m Dorian, and this is a little corner of my life, books, and BC adventures.