heavy processing or autumn
When I go to Robarts, I usually prefer the 13th floor, but this time I went to the 9th because I needed books from the AZ collection. I ended up writing a letter to T. L. Cowan and Jas Rault—learning about Heavy Processing gave me those bursting waves. I’m the kind of academic who can’t separate feeling from thinking; I just can’t pack my emotions away and say, oh well, now don’t feel the text—think the text only! Downstairs, there was a book sale, and people were veryyy agitated, searching through piles and boxes. It reminded me that, after all, people still look for books. Or sales. I found a poet, Anne Wilkinson,and it felt good to learn about this Canadian writer born in 1910. Some of her poems are very telling of her times, which is neither good nor bad. The ways us women can think of ourselves at times: mystical or weak. The day had those soft tones of autumn. I sat outside the library building for a few minutes, just taking in the moment, feeling that what I was going through was so banal and yet so special. Watching the movements of the day and its people, I thought: in hundreds of years, none of this will matter. But right then, I was there, witnessing it all: life happening, unaware of life.
My tiny little body is a potent one.
St. George Street, Toronto, November 4, 2025.
night falls view
Anne Wilkinson
