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---------------------------------------------------- Toronto-based illustrator & video editor Alex Goubar brings stories to life with her vibrant artwork. A proud graduate of Sheridan College's Bachelor of Illustration program, Alex has illustrated over 20 children's books, with six becoming bestsellers. When she's not creating enchanting visuals, Alex volunteers at the LongRun Thoroughbred Retirement Society, showcasing her love for animals and community. Follow her artistic

I’ve heard people compare their grief to beautiful things - glitter, sea-smoothed pebbles, birds. That said, if one more person compares my grief to a piece of glitter I may lose it.

How to cure your limerence in 48 Hours a short film

I like the kind of summer that gets under your nails: Dirt from my garden. Popsicles. The film of Sunscreen. A peach eaten over the sink, juice running down your wrist. Beer gone warm. Leather seats in the sun. Sweat. Mosquito bites.

The scent of cut cedar Even better when it burns Campfire calling for marshmallows Your fingers soon a mess of tacky and soot The smoky haze that hangs halfway up trees Blink of neon green lightning bugs The cologne of Off on every nape and wrist and knee

I feel the buzzing of wings whirring, stirring the hot, humid night air of midsummer I lie in the cool of the grass waiting

Every piano in my house has a story.

By July, everything beautiful had started sticking to me. Peach juice at the corner of my mouth. Drugstore lip gloss in my hair. The plastic straw of a root beer, stained pink, while I pretended not to look.

I am a dark comedy amok sarcastic incongruity of leftover situation ships passed in the night smokestack leavings tinge the windows blur the view outside while inside remainders cling to intestinal crevices reminders of yesterday’s feast where at the very least I had to lick my fingers

The last night/we stumbled on star dust/lost along the recipe/of your mother's homemade wine

[1] Roadkill is technically a harvest poisoned, flattened like morals and brainworms. [2] Those seeds bear rotten fruit. The well, tainted. [3] I thought forced injections was an issue of freedom? Are you not against ingesting toxins?