There is no better time than now to pause, to look back and honor the path that has brought me here.

For many years, I wandered lost, weighed down by a life that no longer made sense, a life that felt distant from my own heart. But in the last four years, I began the journey of reclaiming my happiness, a happiness rooted in putting myself first—nurturing my mind, body, spirit, and the love I share with my daughter.

In these years of transformation, I have emerged from a toxic, soul-wounding marriage. I’ve endured the loss of an eye, now replaced by a prosthetic, and faced the shadow of two brain aneurysms. Through it all, I held fast to hope, knowing that even in uncertainty, beauty could still flourish. Moments of falling in and out of love, of laughter shared with friends around a table, of travels that opened my spirit, and of watching my daughter bloom before my eyes—all remind me that life is an intricate dance of joy and hardship. Every lesson, every tear, every triumph is a gift I will one day pass to her.

And now, as I stand in the present moment, I am overwhelmed by gratitude—grateful to still be here, breathing, surrounded by the ones I hold dear.

As I begin another journey around the sun, I offer these words to myself and to anyone who finds them:

1. Happiness is here, now, in the present. In this moment of reflection, I am filled with joy, and I wish the same for all who read this.

2. Cherish each breath. Let meditation be your guide. In the simple act of breathing in and out, we find our way back to ourselves, to the present where life unfolds.

3. The world can be dark and frightening, but awareness opens the path to light. By staying mindful of the problems facing our planet, we can respond with compassion, knowing how to help and when to protect.

4. Practice mindfulness in each passing moment. In doing so, we cultivate peace—within ourselves and for others. Be a protector of peace, for yourself and for those in need.

So, with this next journey, I make a promise to myself: I will embrace the present with open arms. I will let the sun’s warmth rest on my skin more often. I will read more beautiful words, love more deeply, and savor every precious moment that this life gifts me.


— Sincerely, Boris

We had known each other just ten days
When I booked our flights to Montreal.
Four nights passed in a dream,
And by the end, love quietly found us.

Six months together felt like a lifetime,
Until I let it slip from my grasp.
Two months without you stretched on,
And I unraveled for countless more.

A year has now passed since we first met,
Yet every moment is filled with your absence.
A year since I last held love in my hands—
And I would wait a lifetime to hold it again.


— Sincerely, Boris

Her intellect, an endless well of curiosity, unfolds in layers—always surprising, ever-wise. She carries a calm like the wind, her words a soothing calm to every encounter. Her presence sends ripples through my mind, lingering in the frequencies of my thoughts long after we part.

In her eyes, I see myself most clearly—my reflection brighter the nearer we stand. Those glass-like eyes, piercing and full of depth, bring me clarity with every inch we close.

Her touch, a quiet force, healing as it moves through me. It is soft and intentional, pulling me deeper into her embrace, where I never want to leave.

Her lips glisten like a secret waiting to be shared, and I’m drawn to them, wanting nothing more than to taste the moment between us.

Her voice—recognizable even from across the room—is a melody that lingers. She is a perfect harmony, a song etched into the fabric of my being, whispering of times when life was clear, pure, and full of promise.

She wears sweaters and glasses, her hair often tied in a bun. Her smile carries echoes of a younger time, an innocence and depth intertwined. Yet, every day, her beauty surpasses, not because of how she looks, but because of how effortlessly she inhabits herself, as if her presence is a kind of art no one else could recreate.

She is sharp, radiant, and endlessly fun. Her life, is her own masterpiece in progress, is the most beautiful work of art I’ve ever known.

She loves with a patient passion, a devotion that history could take notes on. To know her is to want to know her endlessly—her beauty inside and out, a universe I could explore forever.

She is everything beauty aspires to be.

She is the most beautiful woman in existence, radiant in mind, body, and soul.


— Sincerely, Boris

In the first quiet stir of morning light,
I make a solemn promise to myself,
Fifteen minutes of gratitude, a gift,
To let yesterday’s burdens dissolve away,
And welcome the new day, clean and soft.

The next quarter of the hour, I move with purpose— Making my bed, cracking eggs, waiting as the toast crisps.
I vow not to rush the ritual,
But to savor the warmth of the day’s first sip,
Knowing this moment is mine to hold.

In the next space of time, my eyelids fall,
And in the stillness, I allow my mind to rest.
I gift myself the kindness of breath,
A meditation on silence, on peace,
Each breath a tender reminder to simply be.

The final fifteen I devote to my thoughts,
Unfolding visions, dreams, and gratitude,
Mapping the horizon of what might be,
As I rise with intention,
To greet my day and its untold potential.


— Sincerely, Boris

I come alive when steeped in creativity— wandering the quiet halls and vast spaces of an art gallery, perched on the edge of a timeworn theatre seat, drinking in the magic of a play or film; traversing history in a museums embrace; surrendering to the swell of symphonies or the pulse of a live concert; sifting through forgotten treasures; writing rambles that spill onto the page; capturing fleeting moments in photographs; sketching the whispers of an idea; dwelling within the pages of a notebook, or unraveling the beauty of an experience with someone I hold close.

I am most myself when I can feel every hue, breathe in the motion of life, cradle the words I read, and taste the music filling the air.

Every day becomes a celebration of art, creativity, and the connections that light our soul and inner peace.


— Sincerely, Boris

From our first breath, the seconds slip,
Spent in a currency we scarcely grip.
We waste it on what’s broken, worn,
While neglecting the beauty newly born.

Too often, we fixate, we stall,
Forgetting to build, to love, to call—
Moments that ripple, memories that bind,
Treasures more lasting than what we leave behind.

Time, the one gift we all possess,
Dwindles down with each caress.
And when we exhale our final sigh,
We’ll wish we’d spent it not asking why,

But shaping moments that outlast death—
For time, not life, is our final breath.


— Sincerely, Boris

Today, I close a door left open wide,
But never locked, in case one day, you seek
To return to the place we called our own,
A space once shared, now distant yet near.

On my side, memories linger, healing
From the bond we nurtured, fragile yet full—
But missing still, a knock from the other side,
A sign that you remember too.

On your side, your hand lingers on the handle,
Hesitant, unsure if the past is worth revisiting,
Afraid it may remind you of a love once tender,
That slipped through our fingers like holding water in the palm of our hands.

Our hands meet—two souls on opposite sides,
Turning the **** together,
Opening the door once more.
What begins as a polite greeting
Melds into an embrace,
A hug that stretches time,
Filling the air with memories.

We are carried back,
To a time when we stood on the same side of the door,
Happy, united, alive in our shared warmth.
We leave it unlocked,
For whatever future may come.

A door is just a door—
And though we close it now,
It will never be locked,
For the love and friendship we once knew,
Still lingers, waiting, on both sides.


— Sincerely, Boris

If you were an email,
I’d mark you with stars,
tuck you away in a quiet corner,
where your words would be safe,
for keeping.

If you were a song,
I’d let your melody spill through me,
again and again,
holding each note in a playlist,
for keeping.

If you were a quote,
I’d trace your meaning, line by line,
etch you softly in the pages of my heart,
for keeping.

If you were a drink,
I’d savor each drop slowly,
letting the taste linger on my lips,
for keeping.

If you were a breath of fresh air,
I’d inhale you gently,
fill my lungs with your essence,
for keeping.

If you were a photograph,
I’d gaze into your stillness,
press you into the folds of memory,
for keeping.

If you were a clay vessel,
I’d plant beauty in your depths,
let you bask in sunlight’s warmth,
for keeping.

If you were mine,
I’d cradle your soul tenderly,
hold you through the ages of time,
for safe keeping.


— Sincerely, Boris

The day unfolds with a heart steeped in gratitude, stirred awake by morning meditation. The afternoon finds me beneath a willows gentle sway, a book cradled in my hands, warmth rising from a mug beside me. As night whispers its arrival, my thoughts spill onto paper, paired with a quiet indulgence. Each moment carries the weight of intention, weaving a rhythm of mindfulness, stillness, and creativity. It’s a ritual that’s nourishes my spirit, cultivating inner peace, self discovery, and inspiration in its delicate balance.


— Sincerely, Boris

Have you ever tried to put words to love? For me, it always leads back to home — not a house, not four walls, but that feeling of deep familiarity, where something or someone slips effortlessly into place. It’s the way I feel with my daughter, my siblings, my closest friends. That sense of belonging.

It struck me recently, thinking of a past love, and when I asked myself what it was like to be with them, the answer came like a quiet truth: it felt like home. No matter where we were. Safe, warm, sometimes uncomfortable, but always a place I could return to.

Maybe it’s that simple. Love is home. And perhaps the real goal is to build a neighbourhood.


— Sincerely, Boris

As I stand at the water’s edge, where the sea meets the sky, Waves of emotion crash, blurring the line between past and present.

Yet through the fog, your light shines, a beacon of hope;  Guiding me, steady, through the storm, revealing a path I could not see.

In the end, it wasn’t you at the horizon,
It was me, always me, waiting to be found.
But it was your strength, your hope, that carried me through the tide.

Now, as our journey fades with the setting sun, I let go; Thank you, old friend, for steering me home when I was lost at sea.

So long, and farewell.


— Sincerely, Boris

It’s the smallest moments that often carry the most meaning when we’re fully present. These are the moments that fill my heart and keep me at my happiest.

The sun warming my skin, the breeze lifting my hair, that first, perfect sip of black coffee. Freshly laundered sheets, the quiet glow of the moon, and a home-cooked meal shared with someone special. The cool side of the pillow, calm, slow mornings, and my daughter’s laughter filling the room. Long, unhurried hugs, deep conversations, the wildness of nature, and the stillness of water. Petting a cat, sitting around a table with friends, reading poetry in the quiet, and listening to a playlist that hits just right. Thrifting through memories, reading outdoors, holding hands, fresh flowers, and a home that feels just right.

Long walks, moments of meditation, sitting on a blanket in the park, pulling letters from the Scrabble bag, witnessing or being part of acts of kindness, sharing a blanket on the couch. Shorelines stretching out, sad songs spinning on the record player, reflections in water and glass, autumn scarves, skipping stones, swing sets, soft ambient lighting, and the simple joy of earbuds connecting. Big salads, crisp vegetables, cool water, the satisfaction of finishing a project, wandering through a bookstore, the smell of rain, arriving early, and leaving just as early.

My daughter’s creations, the clean lines of a well-designed room, my mother’s cooking, the freedom of being on a boat, the comfort of thriving house plants, and warm blankets. Storytelling, watching Naruto from my couch, the feel of a great pen, the familiar sound of skateboards, anything miniature or oversized, quality time with my siblings, my daughter’s boundless curiosity, subtitles, charcoal-grilled meat, connecting with my sister, and petting all the Shiba Inus.

These are the little moments that make my life feel full and meaningful.

It has never been clearer:
This silence is mine to wield,
A shield against all transmissions,
A promise I made to guard my heart—
Even if it meant losing you.
To escape the endless circles,
And quiet the mind’s relentless loops,
I vowed to retreat into silence.

This vow is not just for me,
But for those who inhabit the words
I’ve longed to speak,
Words I have meticulously crafted,
To never leave my lips.

For I no longer need the noise,
To anchor my peace.
I refuse to let my words define me,
To sabotage my healing.
Instead, I rest in silence,
Where my truth can breathe, unbruised.

I will stay quiet, and distant—
For in this silence, I have found my strength.
Louder now than ever before,
I grow and protect what awaits me,
In the spaces life has yet to fill.


— Sincerely, Boris

It takes a year to learn loss,
to feel the weight of each day without its rhythm,
what once was, is now only a shadow,
what was here, has slipped away.

It takes a year to understand the space
you still hold in my heart, in my mind.
What was once hollow, now aches with memory.
What was once vacant, is now filled with longing.

It takes a year to fall in love,
and a moment to take it for granted.
What was once ours, has drifted beyond reach.
What was once ours, belongs to the past.

It takes a year to regret the deepest mistake,
to lose everything — even yourself.
What was once within grasp, is now gone,
what once was life, is now distant.

It takes a year to mourn the loss,
to feel again what was missed and forgotten.
What once broke me, has now faded,
what once shattered, is now still.

It takes a year to feel the sting of absence,
to realize the love you held is no longer yours,
and in the stillness of that truth, we find peace,
carving space for new beginnings, for what’s to come.


— Sincerely, Boris

It’s as if you’ve spent a lifetime in pursuit, tirelessly honing your craft, only to meet the moment you’ve long awaited—and falter. In that instant, the prize you held so tightly slips through your fingers, drifting out of reach, lost forever.

Every step, every sacrifice, has led you here, only for the dream you chased so relentlessly to dissolve before your eyes.

The weight of expectation presses down, and the failure burns deep, rending your heart in waves, relentless in its ache.

But at the end, where defeat seemed inevitable, something unexpected awaits. There, beyond the finish line, stand the ones you love most—cheering, smiling, their eyes bright with pride. Their applause whispers a truth louder than your loss: that second place is but a number. In their eyes, you have always been, and will always be, their champion.


— Sincerely, Boris

She sees the world through a prism of light,
Her vision vast, her heart and mind, open wide.
Bisexual and bold, she stands in her truth,
Generous, thoughtful, with kindness inside.

She embraces each soul for who they are,
Honoring difference, sexuality, and the proud.
For what truly matters is love’s quiet truth—
Not the bodies we cherish, but hearts allowed.

Her sexuality is not her whole name,
It’s how she welcomes, accepts, and defends,
Finding beauty in every path crossed,
Shielding those who need her gentle hands.

The world needs more of her radiant grace,
For we would be better with hearts like hers in place.


— Sincerely, Boris

Why does time stretch and crawl when our hearts are heavy, forcing us to linger in every aching breath, every heartbeat slowed to a painful drum beat?

How many souls across the world are moving through this endless moment, caught in the quiet waiting for time to mend the fractures of love lost?

Is this the tempo life demands we learn from, slowing the hours when we need to feel, while joy slips through our fingers like sand?

Or is it that when we are broken, we notice everything—the colors, the textures, the edges—while in happiness, we simply float, unaware of the details fading around us?


— Sincerely, Boris

The streetcars come and go,
Unbound by time,
Rolling with a will of their own,
Arriving only when they please.
The conductor is merely a piece of the machine—
Like the tracks, the brakes, the doors,
An anonymous pulse in the city’s flow.

Doors hiss open, bodies spill out,
Others flood in, filling the narrow aisle.
Some lucky, seated—
The rest, swaying, clinging to metal poles,
Suspended between stops.

Each rider locked in their own world,
Eyes averted, hands clutching bags or phones,
Ears drowned in playlists of morning commutes.
We are, for now, silent travelers,
Bound together by a single, fleeting purpose:
Destination.


— Sincerely Boris

A simple swipe sets in motion the unexpected—sparking a deep conversation with a stranger, where dreams are shared and old wounds surface, laughter flows through written words, and suddenly, we find ourselves learning all that feels sacred to one another.

Soon, we agree to meet, to test where our lives might touch or drift apart, gazing into eyes that no longer reflect the souls behind those stories. It becomes clear—we are not who we imagined.

Then comes the hardest part: gently unraveling this fleeting connection, careful not to leave a wound. Unmatching becomes a ritual, a quiet goodbye before we return to the endless scroll, seeking something meaningful.

Dating has become a transaction, curiosity driving us to wonder what else is out there. And so, the cycle continues—swipe after swipe—hoping what we seek is more than just a distant dream.


— Sincerely, Boris

Today, my heart is full of so many emotions. Wednesdays have always been my favorite, the day when Macy comes home to me, and the week feels whole again. Wednesdays carry their own magic, wrapped in love and anticipation, and today was no different. But this one is special—today, my sweet girl turns 9. Can you believe it? Nine years of you, my daughter.

When people ask me about Macy, I never run out of words. How could I? I could speak endlessly of her kindness, the way it flows effortlessly from her. Of her resilience, her bravery, the quiet courage she carries. I could talk for hours about her gentle heart, the way she treats nature and every living being with care. Or her sharp wit and playful sass, always keeping me on my toes. She’s clever beyond her years, and every day with her is a new discovery. Honestly, I could go on forever, and it still wouldn’t capture all of who she is.

Today, I’m overflowing with pride, watching the person she’s growing into, so full of light. I’m deeply grateful for everyone who’s played a part in raising her with me. Macy is a reflection of your love and kindness. But I’ll admit, there’s a quiet sadness, too — she’s growing up so fast. Yet above all, I feel blessed beyond words. I get to be Macy’s dad.

Happy 9th Birthday, Macy.
With all my love,

— Sincerely, Dad

At times, I wonder  
if her voice will ever find me again.  
At times, I wonder  
if her thoughts still drift my way.  
And if we passed each other once more,  
would her gaze know me in an instant  
or pass by like a stranger lost to time?


— Sincerely, Boris