On a transfer bus from Cowansville to Ste-Anne-des-Plaines, in the lower Laurentians just north of Laval. It does not matter if it is day or night. I cannot tell. In the rear, in a cage, manacled and handcuffed, all is darkness. I hear the rhythm of the truck suspension against the road; feel the truck speed up and slow down; and stare into the void. Thoughts come and go in the form of dreams. Files Prison.
This floodlight of well-meaning compliments trained on my lowly self can serve to inhibit my psychological healing. My self-esteem is still pretty low. Which is a recipe for self-sabotage. Files Criminality
Some months ago, when Colin proudly announced that he would be the editor of a new magazine, The Social Eyes, the English version of Reflet de Societe, I promised, in a burst of enthusiasm , to contribute an article to one issue. Files Society