Joy Wears Groucho Marx Glasses
Last night, I danced the night away on a Toronto rooftop with 500 other women at a sober rave. The bass pounded up through the floor, spreading from our feet to our hearts. We moved, sang, drank slushies, laughed. We connected.
It was joyous.
In the way that people often think of joy. It was loud and boisterous and … obvious.
There are quieter joys in life.
I love slipping into used bookstores. Breathing in the musty, paperback smell while I look around till I get a good feeling from a dilapidated book by an author I don’t know. A . . . [more]


