What I love best about kids is the way they don’t need Any Specific Thing to make them happy, how just the idea of going to see where the buffalo live is reason for skipping, how they listen to the story of the original herd being a gift from Alberta to the island for its centennial some 50-ish years ago and when you’re finished telling that sliver of history they ask if you know that their shoe keeps falling off because it’s too big and they point at where the buffalo Would Be if they were grazing instead of resting in the forest out of sight and when you say that’s the way it goes they’re okay with that because there is still the business of imagining how enormous they must be and the enormous sounds they must make and of course their enormous poop pancakes are Right There, proving They Exist.
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Matilda Magtree 
The first (and last) time I saw a herd of buffalo was while on Greyhound bus going from Edmonton to Vegreville, Alberta, to a college where I was teaching at that time. I was of course in absolute awe, since I had only seen them in my father’s beloved Western movies while growing up in Italy. Will never forget the way that sight made me feel, and to this day I find that experience almost impossible to describe and sight I’ll never forget. Thank you, Canada.
Oh, Toni… when you come here we will commune with the buffalo! I love the image of you on that prairie bus, comparing the sight out the window with TV movies you watched in Italy. Am I right in thinking that impression made its way into your art?