You know the saying – trash, treasure, and all of that. I’ve always had a thing for discarded objects. Take me to a junkyard or a garage sale, and I’m in heaven! In fact, the Neon Boneyard in Las Vegas is at the top of my travel list.

I’m not sure why this is though. Maybe because there’s something beautiful about objects that are falling apart. There certainly is in this discarded wardrobe, with the way the wood has weathered and the elements have stripped the varnish…

Well, it makes for fun times with the camera!

Canadian weather is a funny thing. While my friends in Ottawa and Barrie have basically been buried under piles of snow since Thanksgiving, I’m always surprised at how lenient Mother Nature is with Toronto. Of course, it’s not bikini weather, but enough heat lingers to keep a scattering of leaves clinging stubbornly to a handful of trees. It also means that those leaves that have given up the fight are coated in a layer of frost, making for a very pleasant crunching sound underfoot during my walks in the small woods by my house.

Christmas dinner at a Haitian house. Well, a Haitian vegan/vegetarian house. Basically, there was one lone dish of turkey for the straggling meat-atarians. Still, I can’t hate on the tofu-charged dinner – it can only be described as delicious. And my mouth is still watering from the memory of that plantain…

Sisters are a strange thing. These two always remind me of my sister and me. If you have a sister, or are a sister, you know what I mean. You always get on each others nerves and drive each other to the point of madness, and you bicker about the smallest little things. But who do you want to call when you get the job you were after? Or when that divine little dress you had your eye on finally goes on sale!

What do you make when designing a chair for Alexander McQueen? You make a giant wooden cushion of course! And then you fill it with golden feathers.

Only in architecture school.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Cambridge is a dreary place. Like those days, when you’re walking along the Grand River, and it feels like you’re the only one out there. Just you, and that little old man who’s coming down the path, and who nods a greeting to you just as if you were two characters in a movie about a small American town in the fifties.