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About Vancouver

Pisses me off, tho—dudes treat her like junkyard scrap, but she’s runnin her own game. Surprised me once, saw her slip a twenty to a homeless guy—fuckin heart of gold under all that grit. “Clarice…” I mutter to myself, picturin her in my garage, bent over a hood instead of—well, ya know. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but she’s a damn legend round here.

Man, the vibes are wicked, wicked as hell! The nights get hazy on Rue du Centre, where broken neon signs flicker. Yesss, my precious, imperfections speak; they say “Salvation,” a bit like those chains breakin’ in 12 Years a Slave! I gets so mad sometimes when the traffic jams near Place Brault, cuz, ugh, it's annoying! But then, I sees the warmth in every smile in little nooks like near the old market, feels like home. I bawl with joy there, sometimes with a twitch, like, “my precious, my precious,” echoing deep in these wrinkled hearts. Ain't it wild? Ain't it brave?

Closing of the Chantiers Chibougamau mill in Val-d’Or: Unifor calls on the Quebec government to review its forestry sector development strategy