Brome Sweet Brome

I have alternate titles. many others. they were rambled and recorded while being incredibly early and baking under autumn sun on the side of a highway. standing in dusty gravel with my bike in a bag to the left of me, I listed them off one by one, laughing into the little recorder: Brome Sweet Brome. Bromeance. Beauty and the Brome. When in Brome...

The wind, cars rolling by and other psychedelic effects are completely audible and saved to an MP3, which means that journalism is still looking a lot like Hunter S. these days. Before that really begins, I took off for a couple of blissful days with bests. The agrestic charms of the Eastern townships are beyond my ability to describe so a list shall have to suffice: piled rocks, glass windows, cut lawns, rolling greens, apple trees, cow eyes, rows of corn, (comfort) creeks, quiet nights, clear stars and wallpaper to die for. Brome. Brome. Brome. It felt like home.






what walk?












This stream right here is perfect. The tumbling water, the cascading white bubbles, the fish in the brook, the layered rocks, the freshness and surge of coolness on feet. I love this creek; it told me some secrets about the future and broke my heart with stories of the past. Some tears may have slipped into that creek, before being taken up in strong brown arms, but even this was good.





"soft & hard & cold & comfortable"
vs. "little and beautiful"




okay, THIS is where it all got freaky-deaky. Before our epic 10k walk, we passed a little store in town called 'Grandpa... il était une fois' It was this amazing vintage place where I scored some gem leather sandals and this shirt dress, which matched literally every last pattern in the cabin. I spent the entire night camouflaging my way into curtains, throws and wallpapers, laughing like a madwoman. It worked with EVERYTHING. It even matched the rocks...








Right?? Maybe you had to be there...
SO Brome!
LOCO