Yesterday, a couple walked into our small shop to renew their Canadian passport photos. At first glance, there was nothing unusual about the visit. We take passport photos every day. But as we talked, their story gradually unfolded. Like me, they came from Northwestern China. We even discovered a shared affection for Qin Opera, the powerful and ancient theatrical tradition of our region. Both husband and wife had earned PhDs in aerodynamics in China. They belonged to a genera

Yesterday at our little shop in Montreal, we were reminded—again—that what we print is rarely just ink on material. A young man from Cameroon came in urgently. He was preparing for his wedding this weekend in Montreal and needed a pop-up banner—fast. The kind of portable display you usually see at trade shows, business booths, or events, but here it was destined for something far more intimate: a wedding space filled with friends, family, and two lives quietly converging. We

Some days in a small shop feel ordinary at first, but quietly accumulate meanings you don’t notice until later. Today began like one of those days. A young man came into our store holding a dog in his arms. He spoke gently, but there was a clear purpose in his request: he needed passport photos for his father, who was seated in a wheelchair due to a disability. Annie prepared everything as she always does—backdrop, camera, setup, routine. The kind of calm efficiency that come

Recently, I became curious about book titles. Like many independent authors, I occasionally search online to see whether a title has been used before, whether similar books exist, and how readers might react to certain words. What I discovered was not surprising. Words like fold, floating, shadow, dream, river, and world appear everywhere. They are almost universal literary magnets. They are concrete enough to create an image, yet abstract enough to hold many meanings. At fir

Earlier today, I published a blog post about a quiet rainy day in my shop. After several days of heat and humidity, the rain had finally arrived. The weather was cooler, the streets were calmer, and for most of the day, not a single customer had walked through my door. I wrote about how running a neighborhood print and photo shop is about more than making sales. Of course, revenue matters. Rent must be paid. Families must be supported. But what I missed most was something muc

There is a particular kind of story that refuses to behave like it matters too much. It keeps undercutting its own seriousness, even when things get intense, even when people are kidnapped, or marriages are reorganized like logistics problems, or entire companies start to look like accidental governments. The story I’ve been writing — Nonimportantech — is like that. The name itself already carries a kind of self-defense mechanism. It sounds dismissive, almost ironic, as if th

Today I attended Kendra’s Summer Weekend Flea Market for the third time as a small business participant. Back in 2024, the market was held directly on Notre-Dame Street. In 2025, it moved to Sir-George-Étienne-Cartier Square Park. This year, it returned again to the same park. The location has remained familiar, but the atmosphere has clearly evolved each year. It feels more alive, more crowded, and more confident in its own rhythm. In the days leading up to the event, I was

While writing Consumed Regrets, I spent years inventing strange connections between places that seemed completely different. One of the central settings in the novel is the relationship between the Cactus State and the Marsh State. At first glance, they appear to be opposites. One is dry. One is wet. One struggles with drought. The other struggles with excess water. Yet as the story unfolds, readers gradually discover that the two regions are deeply connected. What happens in

A few days ago, I came across a video claiming that the Sahara Desert is receiving more rainfall than before, and that one day the desert itself might disappear. The video went even further, suggesting that if the Sahara became green again, the Amazon Rainforest could suffer severe consequences. At first, this sounded absurd. How could a desert in Africa possibly affect a rainforest in South America? The two places are separated by an entire ocean. Yet the more I read, the mo

In January 2026, something happened that I never expected. An unfamiliar phone number was added to my PayPal account. Shortly afterward, my password was changed. Then, a total of $517.90 USD was spent through three separate transactions that I did not authorize. At first, I assumed this would be a straightforward case. I reported the issue to PayPal and expected the transactions to be investigated. Instead, I received a response stating: "We've completed our review of your un