The whole club sang every word of a song I had never heard, one that’s been around for almost twenty years. That turned out to be the smallest thing I missed this week. Someone told me I must have seen a lot, and maybe I have. But there was also a table where I was the weakest, a show that brought back two friends who are no longer here, and the honest side of this lifestyle people usually keep to themselves...

In 2016, a professionally painted mask won me a competition. Ten years later, my very young classmate recreated it, and I won again. Between a full moon, a week of goodbyes, and a song that sounds like unlimited youth, I kept thinking about Pirandello, and how easy it is to wear a mask, or to become a spectator in your own Life...

The week started with 21 kilometres alongside my very first friend in St. John’s. Right after the race, he sat on my couch and said exactly the words I needed to hear, about a goodbye I never said the night before. After that, I finally kissed the fish, danced like I hadn’t in over a year, and watched a ship disappear through the Narrows. Sometimes one small switch is all it takes...

I watched them build the patios on Water Street when I arrived, and now I’m watching them take them apart. In between, I crashed a wedding by accident, found a song at 6 a.m. about lives that are all front, and have a disclaimer to give you about last week’s custody agreement. Then a single image stopped me in my tracks, because if today feels ordinary...

The goodbyes have started, and they don’t come one at a time. This week I moved into my fifth address in seven months, signed my first custody agreement, fell out with friends and made peace, and ended up in the hospital in a way I definitely didn’t see coming. Life doesn’t hand you one feeling at a time...

The world’s largest single-masted sailing yacht slipped through the Narrows, and pure chance had me standing in exactly the right spot. It was a week of sunshine on Signal Hill, campfires that turned into sunrises, a Latino night I’d been missing since February, and a lesson I’m still learning about when to speak and when to find better words. Then a random Sunday decided the week wasn’t over yet...

Some of the best moments of my Life lasted less than a second: a name called by the water, a sky about to explode, a photo I’ll keep forever. This week also brought one last goodbye I never planned, a call I had been putting off for too long, and a party I won’t forget for reasons you’d never guess...

There is a moment in every great place when you know it’s time to go, and it’s never when the magic fades. This week was full of those moments: a night drive to a lighthouse, a first and probably last night in a town I’ll never pass through again, a reunion that had been waiting four years, and puffins that didn’t quite live up to the hype. The window is always smaller than you think. The question is what you do before it closes...

The night was infinite, and my shift started at 6 am. A few hours later, I was leaving for a place I could not have found on a map a few weeks earlier. It all began with a street festival I almost didn’t enter, and one casual sentence...

I walked into a bank, saw “31 July” on the wall, and realized the month had vanished. A girl I felt no need to talk to. One more day I was never supposed to stay. A song on repeat. And Dildo. Some weeks do not pass. They disappear...

There's a version of me, sitting on a park bench in 2016, who made a promise he didn't fully understand yet. I kept it for ten years — no apps, only chance. Then, on the last night of June, sitting in St. John's, I downloaded one again...

I turned off the car in the dark, and the fireworks went off. A proper welcome back to Twillingate, in a festival week with every hotel booked and a party that ran out of milk before midnight. But somewhere between the first night and the last, I felt something I had not expected: that this might be my last time here...