New Corinth’s Catherine closes Sunday with tide tables, library holds, Historical Society plans, and one steady recipe; a harbour walk keeps talk careful, collegial favours hold, and a four-line poem softens the day as Monday approaches with a simple invitation.| Vox Meditantis
A sixty-three-year-old recluse finds himself running communications in a Syrian aid camp. Amongst refugees, solar panels, and makeshift networks, he confronts what he once fled: human connection. The chains he thought would trap him might be what keeps him whole.| Vox Meditantis