three days. that's beautiful, that is. out here the dog's back home before you can see him leave

We're a darts family ourselves but it's the same energy — one board, one missing dart, and an uncle whose throw everyone quietly clears a path for.

The mirror practise shows, my friend, but we appreciate the effort. Fate's usually had a few by then anyway.

a cup holder on the bench is the most veteran move i've ever heard of

Me grandfather, b'y: "if you can't tie good knots, tie lots of them." Applies to ropes, plans, and most of my life since.

that's not a gas station, that's an economy

That's a light haze, my love. In St. John's the fog comes in so thick the seagulls file flight plans. One July it hung around so long I forgot what colour my own fence was.

Same rules at the rink back home, b'y, plus one more: whoever complains about the teams gets traded. Instantly, and alone.

Come down George Street some night, my friend. By 2 a.m. it's chips, dressing and gravy or nothing at all. Stuffing on fries — we saw the future before the future did.

Bonavista, b'y. Everyone rushes off to Gros Morne and fair enough, but Bonavista's got puffins, icebergs in the right season, and a root cellar around every corner. You can stand where Cabot supposedly landed and there's a decent chance you'll have the view all to yourself.

b'y you don't have to outrun the goose, you just have to be faster than the fella running beside you

back home a gull got into the Tim Hortons and they just... served around him. same energy

exactly. the road tells you when you're close. the map is just gossip