scenes of autumn

the crisp november air, as if it had been resting all year for this moment, to be as fresh as it can possibly be. the air has arrived to clear my lungs, shedding the summer layer to mark the commencement of fall just as the green leaves turn orange and dance to the ground creating autumn beds.

the autumn beds, a fond memory of my childhood in toronto. the piles of leaves my father would rake up on the lawn only for my brother and i to cannonball into scattering his hard work all over, he looked at us in admiration, we all laughed.

the morning fog that becomes denser by the day summoning the winter. i open the front door, and see the eyes of my car engulfed by the gray mist. i cannot see down the street, but the mystery is captivating. as if, i am in a little cozy bubble behind my wool coat, boots and pashmina scarf from india, my gingerbread flavored coffee warming my hands. what is behind there? the mystery is haunting but thrilling it’s telling me to go back inside, bundle up under the fleece blankets and dive into a book but also summoning me to come closer to reveal what lies behind the gray curtain. Could it be a neighbor walking their dog? could it be a runner? could it be a car coming full speed?! oh! I should probably get out of the street.

i head back inside, as i walk down the driveway i stomp on the leaves, creating a satisfying crunch crunch crunch. i put on a pot of tea, the faint sound of the water boiling transforms into a loud whistle. the tea bag puffs up like a puffer fish then deflates and takes a seat at the bottom of the cup. the steam escaping into the november air.

the scenes of autumn


tent cities

he unclenched his fist/a few peanuts and raisins/that were his/three course meal/his chocolate brown eyes/peeked through the window/droplets of the November rain/dampening his raven hair/he zipped up the window/and buried his face in the pillow/his tummy grew hollow/as he rested/on the frigid concrete/beneath his bones/that he called/home — skid row, ‘a cognitive canvas’ pg. 163

last week, i was driving through west hollywood. miles and miles of palm trees swaying north to south, the mansions perched on the cliffs of the hollywood hills, the sun beaming, the sky blue. as if someone had turned up the saturation in a photograph, utterly perfect. it was a typical, out of the movies like january afternoon in the city of angels. then i took a left…

along both sides of the road, rows and rows of make shift homes made of tents, shopping carts, mattresses, sheets, and other items. 

as every angeleno, i had known about skid row and other homeless communities in los angeles. but this was new, along with the four others i drove past on my way to run errands. 

since the pandemic 567,715 people have become homeless in the nation (source: with california holding the highest number out of all states. there are some amazing organizations like “Project RoomKey” who’ve provided hotel and motel rooms to the homeless during the pandemic, and as stated on their site are working to ensure that after the pandemic these individuals and families won’t be back on the streets. 

in addition, after having lost their jobs many families are short on food. having a space to socially distance during these unprecedented times is a privilege, having food and a job is a privilege. 

never forget to be grateful 


here are some sites where you can get more information/help those in need: