More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Society, I figured, cares more about criminals than they do about the homeless.
That’s all any of the darkness really is—just love gone bad. We’re just broken-hearted people hurt by life.”
Like a silent summer rain that lightly quenches the prairie after a long drought, or the cloud of droplets that kicks up at the bottom of a waterfall, delicately misting your face. Refreshing and warm, like I’d rediscovered some fragment of home, some lost piece of myself. It filled me up.
The Métis weren’t taken care of with a treaty like First Nations peoples with reserves, but cast off to wander, unprotected and dispossessed—we were the forgotten people.
Every step is a gift, every one is sacred, and each, in its own little way, is a prayer for me.
