what happens to people living in high-rise towers when disaster strikes?

 

what happens to people living in high-rise towers when disaster strikes?

I keep thinking about Vancouver, Burnaby and Surrey, and how many people live dozens of floors above the ground.

We talk about hurricanes, atmospheric rivers, flooding and extreme weather. We talk about power outages and roads becoming impassable.

But what happens when all these things happen at once?

What happens when the power goes out for days and the elevators stop working?

I have lived in a building where elevators break down regularly. One was out of service for two months before it was finally repaired, and now another is broken.

Imagine that happening during a major storm.

Think about seniors, people with disabilities, people who are ill, parents with small children, and anyone who cannot walk down dozens of flights of stairs.

How do they get food, drinking water and medication?

Who checks on them?

What happens if water pumps fail and the water supply to upper floors is disrupted?

What happens if roads are flooded, deliveries stop, emergency services are overwhelmed, and people cannot safely leave their buildings?

Where do these people go? What is the plan?

Vancouver, Burnaby and Surrey have enormous numbers of people living in apartment towers. We need to ask whether emergency planning accounts for the needs of everyone inside them, especially during prolonged power outages caused by severe weather.

This isn't about earthquakes. I'm talking about hurricanes, atmospheric rivers, flooding and destructive storms that can knock out essential services.

We have seen what happened during Hurricane Katrina. We have seen what happened during the 2021 floods in British Columbia.

We cannot assume that because someone has a roof over their head, they will be safe when disaster strikes.

I want to know what our municipalities, building managers and emergency planners are doing to prepare for these situations.

If the power goes out for a week, the elevators stop and the roads flood, who makes sure nobody is left stranded in their own home?

These are questions we should be asking now, not after the disaster.

I sincerely hope we never have to find out the hard way.

#EmergencyPreparedness #Vancouver #Burnaby #SurreyBC #ExtremeWeather #FloodPreparedness #PowerOutage #HighRiseLiving #ClimateResilience #NobodyLeftBehind

i am scared. and i think we need to pay attention

 

i am scared. and i think we need to pay attention.

I have been studying hurricanes for many years, ever since learning about Hurricane Pauline (Paulina), which devastated Mexico's Pacific coast in 1997, and the destruction it brought to places including the region around Shambhala.

My dear friend Gloria once told me about being trapped in a room during a hurricane with a young man. For hours, she had to hold the roof down with one arm because, if she let go, it threatened to blow away.

Imagine that. Holding a roof over your head while a hurricane tries to tear your world apart.

Then came Hurricane Agatha in 2022, which struck the Oaxaca coast. I watched it hit Zipolite, a place I love, and tried to warn people as the storm approached.

Then I watched the little green lights on Messenger disappear, one by one.

No power. No communication. No way of knowing who was safe.

Days of watching, waiting, wondering and worrying.

Finally, after five days, I heard from my friends. They were okay.

But the restaurant where I had painted all my murals was destroyed.

I have experienced major storms in British Columbia and in Mexico. I have watched the weather, studied the patterns and listened to people who have lived through things most of us can barely imagine.

I also watched the Spike Lee film When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts, about Hurricane Katrina and the catastrophic failures surrounding it.

People told to evacuate without having the means to leave. People sent to shelters that could not adequately protect them. Families stranded, people dying, loved ones left behind. Communities abandoned while they waited for help.

And now I watch what is happening in Mexico and the United States, and I worry.

Because a hurricane is one thing. What happens when the power goes out, communications fail, roads flood and emergency services cannot reach people is another.

What happens when governments aren't prepared, when resources don't reach those who need them, and when vulnerable people are left to fend for themselves?

I worry about Vancouver. Are we truly prepared for a major disaster?

I remember what happened in the Fraser Valley during the November 2021 atmospheric river. Floodwaters overwhelmed communities, roads and farms. Millions of dollars in agricultural losses were reported, including devastating livestock losses. People were cut off, and supply chains were disrupted.

We have seen what extreme weather can do here, too.

And we know that climate change is increasing the risks associated with many extreme weather events, although no one can tell us exactly when or where the next catastrophe will strike.

LOOK. LEARN. PAY ATTENTION. PREPARE.

Learn what happened before. Learn from the people who survived. Ask difficult questions about evacuation plans, emergency shelters, communications, food supplies and who will help people who cannot help themselves.

Don't wait until the power goes out to wonder what you will do.

I hope I am wrong about how serious things could become. I really do.

But I have watched friends disappear from the radar during a hurricane. I have waited days to find out if people I love were alive. I have seen places I care about destroyed.

I know these things are not just headlines.

They are people's lives.

And if we repeat the failures of Katrina on a large scale, the consequences could be catastrophic.

We cannot stop every storm. But we can learn from the last one. We can prepare. And we can refuse to accept that people being abandoned is simply the way things have to be.

Please take this seriously. Look around. Ask questions. Pay attention to what is happening.

I hope I am wrong. ❤️

10 questions Vancouver and Surrey need to answer before the next big storm

I keep thinking about Hurricane Katrina, the film When the Levees Broke, and the terrible lessons we should never forget.

We have our own history here. The 1962 Columbus Day windstorm brought destructive winds to the Lower Mainland. In 2021, an atmospheric river flooded highways, isolated communities and devastated farms across British Columbia.

So I have some questions for our local governments and emergency planners.

1. If a storm like the 1962 windstorm hit Vancouver or Surrey today, how prepared are we? Are our buildings, trees, power systems and emergency services ready?

2. Where do people go when their homes become unsafe? Are there designated emergency shelters, and how will residents find out which ones are open?

3. What happens to people who have no car? How will seniors, people with disabilities, families with children and people experiencing homelessness evacuate safely?

4. What is the plan if the power goes out for days? How will people access drinking water, food, heating, medical supplies and reliable information?

5. What happens if mobile networks and internet services fail? Will emergency information be broadcast over radio, delivered door to door, or made available through other reliable methods?

6. Are Vancouver and Surrey prepared for major flooding? What happens if roads are underwater, bridges are closed, and neighbourhoods are cut off?

7. What happens to people who have nowhere else to go? Will emergency accommodation be available to people who cannot stay with friends or family? What about their pets and essential belongings?

8. How will emergency services cope if several neighbourhoods need help at once? Are there clear priorities, backup resources and plans for prolonged emergencies?

9. Who checks on the most vulnerable residents? What happens to people living alone, people who are ill, and those who cannot receive or act on emergency warnings without assistance?

10. Have we genuinely learned from Katrina and the 2021 floods? Are our emergency plans tested, publicly understood and properly resourced, or are we hoping that nothing this serious will happen here?

I am not asking these questions because I know a disaster is coming. I am asking because we cannot predict every storm, and preparation is not something we should leave until the last minute.

I have watched hurricanes hit places I love in Mexico. I have watched friends disappear offline as the power failed, waited days to hear they were safe, and seen places I cared about destroyed.

I have also watched what happened when people were left waiting for help after Katrina.

We cannot afford to assume that someone else will take care of everything when disaster strikes.

Vancouver. Surrey. British Columbia.

Where is the plan? Where do people go? And how do we make sure nobody is left behind?

I would genuinely like to hear from our emergency planners and local governments. What provisions are in place, what gaps remain, and what should residents know now?

Please look, learn, ask questions and prepare. I sincerely hope we never need these plans on a catastrophic scale. But I would rather ask these questions today than wish we had asked them yesterday.

#EmergencyPreparedness #Vancouver #SurreyBC #ExtremeWeather #StormReady #FloodPreparedness #DisasterPlanning #ClimateResilience #CommunitySafety #NobodyLeftBehind

why i love frida kahlo 💔🌺

 

FRIDA painting by Zipolita

why i love frida kahlo 💔🌺

Many people recognize Frida Kahlo’s face, her flowers, her colourful dresses and her extraordinary paintings. But how many really know what she lived through?

In 1925, Frida was involved in a devastating bus accident that left her with serious, lifelong injuries. She endured years of chronic pain, numerous operations and long periods of recovery. Painting became a way to express what words sometimes couldn't.

Her father, Guillermo Kahlo, was a German-born professional photographer. Through photography, Frida was exposed to composition, light, contrast and the art of really seeing. Those visual skills would become part of the artist she grew into.

Then there was Diego Rivera.

Their relationship was passionate, complicated and painful. Diego had numerous affairs, including one with Frida's younger sister, Cristina. Imagine that heartbreak. Betrayal by the man you loved was devastating enough, but betrayal involving your own sister must have cut even deeper.

Frida and Diego separated, divorced in 1939, and remarried in 1940. Frida also had relationships of her own, including relationships with women, at a time when being open about such things could carry serious social consequences.

But Frida was never simply Diego Rivera's wife.

She was an artist in her own right. She painted her pain, her identity, her Mexican heritage, her experiences as a woman and the complicated realities of being human. Her paintings began finding international audiences during her lifetime, although her fame grew enormously after her death in 1954.

What I love about Frida is that she didn't paint a pretty picture of life just to make other people comfortable. She painted what she knew. She made her suffering visible without allowing it to be the only thing that defined her.

She deserved tenderness. She deserved loyalty. She deserved a life with less pain.

And yet, through everything, she created art that continues to speak to people decades later.

Perhaps that's why her work means so much to so many of us. Not because suffering makes someone a great artist, but because Frida found a way to express what suffering, love, betrayal and resilience can feel like.

Frida Kahlo wasn't just a face on a canvas. She was a whole human being, with a complicated life, an extraordinary eye and a voice that still refuses to be silenced. 🌺

#FridaKahlo #WomenInArt #ArtHistory #WomenArtists #PhotographyAndArt #Resilience #MexicanArt #FridaKahloForever #ArtAndLife #WomenWhoInspire

HEY! WHERE IS THE WARNING? CYANOTYPE IS CHEMISTRY, NOT JUST CRAFTS!

 HEY! WHERE IS THE WARNING? CYANOTYPE IS CHEMISTRY, NOT JUST CRAFTS!

I’m seeing cyanotype printing everywhere on social media lately, and as a photographer who has hand-printed hundreds of photographs, I’m concerned and frankly upset by the lack of safety information in some demonstrations.

Traditional cyanotype uses two chemicals: ferric ammonium citrate and potassium ferricyanide. These are not simply harmless art supplies. They require proper handling, storage and disposal.

I’m watching people rinse their prints with garden hoses directly onto lawns without any discussion of where the chemical runoff goes or what it might mean for the environment.

Potassium ferricyanide can release highly toxic hydrogen cyanide gas under strongly acidic conditions. Skin and eye protection, safe handling and proper disposal instructions matter.

And what happens when these kits become Christmas presents for children?

Will parents know what chemicals are in the box? Will children understand the precautions? Will leftover solutions be poured down the sink or rinsed into the garden? Will anyone explain what NOT to do?

Where are the warnings in these videos? Where is the information about chemical safety and environmental responsibility?

I’m not saying people shouldn’t enjoy cyanotype photography. I’m saying that demonstrating a chemical photographic process without discussing its risks and precautions is irresponsible.

As artists, photographers and educators, we have a duty to share the whole picture — not just the pretty blue prints.

BEAUTIFUL ART SHOULD NEVER COME AT THE EXPENSE OF INFORMED SAFETY.

#Cyanotype #ArtSafety #ChemicalSafety #EnvironmentalProtection #ResponsibleArt

world homelessness day — october 10

 

world homelessness day — october 10

Today, October 10, is World Homeless Day, a day to bring attention to homelessness around the world and the need for safe, affordable housing for everyone.

Today is also the day of a housing march, bringing people together to raise their voices and demand change.

Homelessness is not just about sleeping on the street. It includes people couch-surfing, living in temporary accommodations, staying wherever they can find a place, and those one missed paycheque away from losing their homes.

Behind every statistic is a human being. Someone's mother, father, daughter, son, friend or neighbour. People who deserve dignity, security and a place to call home.

I've been without a permanent home since 2019. I know firsthand that housing insecurity isn't always visible. You can be resourceful, creative and determined, and still struggle to find a place you can afford.

Housing is a basic human need, not a luxury. We cannot keep treating homelessness as though it is an inevitable part of society.

Today's housing march is an opportunity to stand together, be heard and remind decision-makers that people need real solutions, not just promises.

A home should be a human right, not a privilege reserved for those who can afford it.

On World Homeless Day, let's remember those who are struggling, those who are fighting to keep a roof over their heads, and those who have been left behind.

Everyone deserves a safe place to sleep, a door they can close, and the peace of mind that comes with knowing they have a home.

#WorldHomelessDay #HousingIsAHumanRight #HousingMarch #EndHomelessness #AffordableHousing

 

housing is a human right — march for homes, not just promises

Today, October 10, people are taking to the streets for housing. I wish we lived in a world where we didn't have to march to remind governments that everyone deserves a safe place to call home.

I've been without a permanent home since 2019. I've couch-surfed, looked after cats, cleaned houses, and done what I can to survive. I'm still trying to get by until my pension begins in February. I know firsthand that being without a home isn't a personal failure. Sometimes, life changes in ways you never expected, and finding your way back becomes almost impossible.

We need more than temporary solutions. We need affordable housing that people can actually afford on their incomes. We need options that respect people's dignity, privacy, independence, and individual circumstances.

A shelter isn't the same as a home. A single room isn't necessarily a solution. And telling people to pull themselves up by their bootstraps doesn't help when the cost of living keeps rising and the places people once could afford are disappearing.

Housing is a basic human need. It should not be a privilege reserved for those who can afford increasingly unrealistic rents or qualify for limited programs.

Today, I stand with everyone marching for housing, everyone who has a home but fears losing it, and everyone still searching for a place to belong.

People before profits. Homes before speculation. Dignity before bureaucracy.

Because everyone deserves a roof over their head and a little peace of mind.

#HousingIsAHumanRight #HousingForAll #AffordableHousing #Homelessness #EndHomelessness #HousingCrisis #RightToHousing #Vancouver #PovertyIsNotAChoice #DignityForAll

Tell me history of Mad Max

 I asked ai

Tell me history of Mad Max

Absolutely — Mad Max has a surprisingly interesting history, especially because the first movie was made for very little money in Australia and became a worldwide phenomenon.

🚗 Where it began — Mad Max (1979)

The original Mad Max was created by Australian filmmaker George Miller, who had worked as a doctor before becoming a filmmaker.

Miller and producer Byron Kennedy made the movie on an extremely small budget. The basic premise was:

What happens when society starts breaking down and ordinary people become desperate?

It takes place in a near-future Australia where fuel is becoming scarce, violence is escalating and the police are struggling to maintain order.

Max Rockatansky, played by a very young Mel Gibson, is a police officer who wants to leave the increasingly violent world behind.

Then his family is targeted by a vicious motorcycle gang.

That transforms Max from a man trying to escape the violence into the "Mad Max" of the title.

Interestingly, the first movie isn't really the post-apocalyptic wasteland people associate with Mad Max. It's more like a society on the edge of collapse.

---

🔥 Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior — 1981

This is where the mythology really exploded.

Mad Max 2 takes place after civilization has essentially collapsed.

Oil and gasoline have become incredibly valuable, and survivors fight over fuel.

This introduced much of the visual language people now think of as "Mad Max":

• enormous customized vehicles
• leather and scavenged clothing
• desert wastelands
• gangs
• fortified settlements
• people fighting over gasoline
• Max as the mysterious wandering outsider

It was released internationally as The Road Warrior in the United States, partly because American distributors thought audiences might not know what "Mad Max" meant.

And it became hugely influential.

---

⚡ Beyond Thunderdome — 1985

Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome moved even further into mythology.

Max arrives at Bartertown, a bizarre settlement run by Aunty Entity, played by Tina Turner.

And of course:

"Two men enter. One man leaves."

That's the famous Thunderdome.

The movie is unusual because it has more of a fairy-tale quality than the previous films. Max eventually encounters a group of children who have grown up isolated from the old world.

---

🏜️ Then came a VERY long wait

George Miller wanted to make another Mad Max movie, but the project spent decades in development.

There were financing problems, changing plans and eventually even the September 11 attacks and the Iraq War affected production logistics.

Meanwhile, the Mad Max idea became enormously influential on popular culture.

You can see its fingerprints in countless post-apocalyptic movies, video games, costumes and even car culture.

---

🔥 Mad Max: Fury Road — 2015

Then Miller came back and absolutely blew the doors off.

Mad Max: Fury Road starred Tom Hardy as Max and Charlize Theron as Imperator Furiosa.

And here's the fascinating part:

Furiosa practically became the main character.

The story follows Furiosa stealing five women from the tyrant Immortan Joe and trying to get them to safety.

It was filmed largely with real vehicles and practical stunts, rather than relying entirely on computer effects.

The result was one of the most visually spectacular action films ever made.

It won six Academy Awards.

---

👑 Furiosa — 2024

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga went backward in the timeline.

Instead of continuing Max's story, Miller told Furiosa's origin story.

Anya Taylor-Joy plays the older Furiosa, while Alyla Browne plays her as a child.

It explains where Furiosa came from, how she ended up in Immortan Joe's world, and how she became the warrior we meet in Fury Road.

---

🧩 And the really interesting thing about Mad Max...

The movies aren't necessarily meant to be a perfectly consistent historical timeline.

George Miller has described Max almost like an Australian myth or legend.

Different stories are told about him. Details don't always line up perfectly. Even Max himself becomes almost a mythical figure wandering through the ruins of civilization.

So the overall evolution is:

1979: Society is collapsing
↓
1981: Civilization has collapsed
↓
1985: Survivors create strange new societies
↓
2015: Full-blown post-apocalyptic mythology
↓
2024: We go back and learn Furiosa's story

And underneath all the crazy cars and explosions, there's a recurring theme Miller keeps returning to:

What happens to human beings when resources disappear and civilization's rules stop protecting them?

That's why Mad Max has lasted so long. It's not really about cars. It's about what people become when the world they depended on disappears.

#MadMax, #GeorgeMiller, #MelGibson, #TheRoadWarrior, #BeyondThunderdome, #FuryRoad, #Furiosa, #PostApocalyptic, #AustralianCinema, #MovieHistory

Aging can be harder than people realize.

 Aging can be harder than people realize.

There’s a strange attitude that if you aren’t currently in a conventional paid job, somehow you have never worked, never contributed, and have nothing of value to offer.

Dog walking, caregiving, cleaning, helping others, raising children, volunteering, creating art, supporting family and friends — apparently some kinds of work only count when someone is handing you a paycheque.

It can be heartbreaking to feel that people see you as less intelligent, less capable, or even a burden simply because your circumstances have changed.

A person’s worth does not disappear when their employment does.

We are more than our job title, our income, our age, or what we can produce for someone else.

People deserve dignity throughout their whole lives. ❤️

#Aging #Dignity #TheValueOfWork #CareWork #Caregiving #InvisibleWork #HumanWorth #Classism #Community #Kindness

Il était une fois... Approchez, les enfants

 IL ÉTAIT UNE FOIS — APPROCHEZ, LES ENFANTS

Il était une fois...

Approchez, les enfants.

J’ai une histoire triste à vous raconter.

C’est une histoire vraie.

Et je vous la raconte parce que cela pourrait se reproduire — peut-être plus tôt que nous aimerions le penser.

Je ne veux pas vous faire peur.

Je veux que vous sachiez.

Parce que lorsque nous savons ce qui s’est passé auparavant, nous avons de meilleures chances de nous préparer, de nous protéger, de protéger les personnes que nous aimons et de protéger toute notre famille humaine, autant que nous le pouvons.

Alors prenez une tasse de thé.

Prenez un biscuit.

Et peut-être un mouchoir.

Parce que celle-ci est un peu triste.

Ensuite, nous parlerons de ce que nous pouvons faire.

---

Il était une fois, dans les années 1870...

C’était un monde sans satellites.

Sans applications météo.

Sans téléphones qui vibraient pour annoncer une alerte d’urgence.

Sans ordinateurs qui surveillaient les océans.

Les gens devaient regarder le ciel, les rivières, les récoltes et les animaux — et essayer de comprendre ce que le monde en train de changer essayait de leur dire.

Et puis quelque chose d’extraordinaire s’est produit.

Les océans ont changé.

L’atmosphère a changé.

Le temps a changé.

Et en 1877–78, un phénomène El Niño exceptionnellement puissant est devenu une partie d’une histoire climatique beaucoup plus vaste.

Ce qui a suivi fut l’une des crises alimentaires liées au climat les plus dévastatrices de l’histoire moderne.

Les gens n’ont pas simplement connu du mauvais temps.

Ils ont connu la faim.

Et des millions de personnes ont perdu la vie.

Maintenant, approchez-vous un peu, parce que c’est ici que cette vieille histoire devient importante pour nous...

Elle ne s’est pas arrêtée à l’autre bout du monde.

Le climat ne respecte pas les frontières.

Une sécheresse dans un endroit peut affecter l’alimentation ailleurs.

Les inondations peuvent détruire les fermes.

Les mauvaises récoltes peuvent faire exploser le prix des aliments.

Et lorsque les gens ne peuvent plus survivre là où ils vivent, ils partent.

Ils cherchent un endroit sûr.

Un endroit où il y a de l’eau.

Un endroit où il y a de la nourriture.

Un endroit où vivent des gens prêts à aider.

Et cela nous ramène à notre vieille histoire...

À **Victoria.

À Seattle.

À la vallée du Fraser.

À l’endroit qui allait bientôt devenir Vancouver.

Et à Ottawa.**

Parce que même si Vancouver n’était pas encore une ville, le fleuve Fraser montrait déjà aux gens de quoi il était capable.

En 1879, après les terribles années qui venaient de s’écouler, le Fraser est de nouveau monté de façon spectaculaire.

La région de Sumas a été inondée.

Les terres agricoles ont été endommagées.

Un pont a été emporté par les eaux.

Les gens regardaient l’eau emporter des morceaux de ce qui leur permettait de vivre.

Imaginez-vous là, sans radar météorologique.

Sans téléphone.

Sans notification d’urgence.

Simplement à regarder le fleuve monter.

Et à vous demander :

Jusqu’où va-t-il monter ?

C’est cette partie de l’histoire que je veux que nous retenions.

Pas parce que je pense que l’histoire va se répéter exactement.

Elle ne se répétera pas de la même façon.

Mais parce que la nature a une mémoire plus longue que la nôtre.

Et aujourd’hui, nous voyons se développer un autre phénomène El Niño très puissant.

Alors cette fois, peut-être pouvons-nous faire quelque chose que les gens des années 1870 ne pouvaient pas faire.

Nous pouvons regarder en arrière.

Nous pouvons regarder autour de nous.

Et nous pouvons nous préparer.

Pas dans la panique.

Avec amour.

Pour nous-mêmes.

Pour nos voisins.

Pour les agriculteurs.

Pour les enfants.

Pour les aînés.

Pour les personnes qui n’ont nulle part où aller en sécurité.

Pour les personnes à l’autre bout du monde.

Pour toute notre famille humaine.

Parce que c’est vraiment de cela que parle cette histoire.

Pas de peur.

De préparation.

Et peut-être que, si nous sommes suffisamment intelligents...

la prochaine génération n’aura pas à raconter cette histoire comme une tragédie.

Peut-être la racontera-t-elle comme l’histoire du moment où l’humanité a vu les signes avant-coureurs...

et a réellement écouté.

---

Questions pour réfléchir

Enseignants et enseignantes :

1. Qu’enseignez-vous à la prochaine génération sur la façon de survivre et de prendre soin d’un monde en changement — au-delà du contenu des manuels scolaires ?

Élèves et étudiants :

2. Que pouvez-vous apprendre et faire dès maintenant pour ne pas être démunis lorsque votre communauté fera face à une crise ?

Politiciens et responsables publics :

3. Si vous savez que les bouleversements climatiques peuvent menacer l’alimentation, le logement et la sécurité, que faites-vous réellement pour préparer votre communauté — et où est le plan ?

Infirmiers et infirmières :

4. Lorsque la prochaine urgence submergera le système de santé, qui prendra soin des personnes qui n’ont nulle part ailleurs où se tourner — et êtes-vous prêts ?

Médecins et médecins :

5. Traitez-vous les maladies liées au climat et les catastrophes comme des réalités qui affectent déjà la santé humaine, ou attendons-nous encore que la crise devienne impossible à ignorer ?

Agriculteurs et agricultrices :

6. Si une sécheresse, une inondation ou des conditions météorologiques extrêmes menacent vos récoltes, que pouvons-nous faire dès maintenant pour protéger l’approvisionnement alimentaire ?

Scientifiques :

7. Qu’observez-vous que les gens ordinaires doivent comprendre — et quel avertissement sommes-nous en train de ne pas entendre ?

Stars du rock et du cinéma :

8. Des millions de personnes vous écoutent. À quoi allez-vous utiliser cette voix lorsque votre message pourrait réellement sauver des vies ?

Dirigeants d’entreprises :

9. Lorsque la prochaine urgence climatique arrivera, votre priorité sera-t-elle de protéger les personnes et les communautés — ou de protéger les profits ?

Nous tous :

10. Lorsque l’histoire se penchera sur ce moment, dira-t-elle que nous connaissions les signes avant-coureurs et que nous avons agi — ou que nous les connaissions et que nous n’avons rien fait ?

Tina Winterlik — mercredi 7 octobre 2026

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Érase una vez... Acérquense, niños

 

ÉRASE UNA VEZ — ACÉRQUENSE, NIÑOS

Érase una vez...

Acérquense, niños.

Hay una historia triste que necesito contarles.

Es una historia verdadera.

Y se las cuento porque podría volver a suceder — quizá antes de lo que nos gustaría pensar.

No quiero asustarlos.

Quiero que sepan.

Porque cuando sabemos lo que sucedió antes, tenemos más posibilidades de prepararnos, protegernos a nosotros mismos y a las personas que amamos, y proteger a toda nuestra familia mundial tanto como podamos.

Así que sírvanse una taza de té.

Tomen una galleta.

Y quizá un pañuelo.

Porque esta historia es un poquito triste.

Después hablaremos de lo que podemos hacer.

---

Érase una vez, en la década de 1870...

Había un mundo sin satélites.

Sin aplicaciones meteorológicas.

Sin teléfonos que vibraran con alertas de emergencia.

Sin computadoras observando los océanos.

La gente tenía que mirar el cielo, los ríos, los cultivos y los animales — y tratar de entender lo que el mundo cambiante estaba tratando de decirles.

Y entonces ocurrió algo extraordinario.

Los océanos cambiaron.

La atmósfera cambió.

El clima cambió.

Y en 1877–78, un fenómeno de El Niño extraordinariamente poderoso se convirtió en parte de una historia climática mucho más grande.

Lo que siguió fue una de las crisis alimentarias relacionadas con el clima más devastadoras de la historia moderna.

La gente no tuvo que enfrentarse simplemente a un mal tiempo.

Tuvo que enfrentarse al hambre.

Y millones de personas perdieron la vida.

Ahora acérquense un poquito más, porque aquí es donde esta vieja historia se vuelve importante para nosotros...

No se quedó al otro lado del mundo.

El clima no respeta fronteras.

Una sequía en un lugar puede afectar los alimentos en otro.

Las inundaciones pueden destruir las granjas.

Las cosechas perdidas pueden hacer que los precios de los alimentos se disparen.

Y cuando las personas ya no pueden sobrevivir donde están, se mudan.

Buscan un lugar seguro.

Un lugar con agua.

Un lugar con comida.

Un lugar donde haya personas dispuestas a ayudar.

Y eso nos trae de vuelta nuestra vieja historia...

A **Victoria.

A Seattle.

Al Valle del Fraser.

Al lugar que pronto se convertiría en Vancouver.

Y a Ottawa.**

Porque aunque Vancouver todavía no era una ciudad, el río Fraser ya estaba mostrando a la gente de lo que era capaz.

En 1879, después de los terribles años que habían pasado, el Fraser volvió a crecer de manera dramática.

La zona de Sumas se inundó.

Las tierras agrícolas sufrieron daños.

Un puente fue arrastrado por las aguas.

La gente observaba cómo el agua se llevaba partes de aquello de lo que dependían para vivir.

Imaginen estar allí sin un radar meteorológico.

Sin teléfono.

Sin una notificación de emergencia.

Simplemente mirando cómo subía el río.

Y preguntándose:

¿Hasta dónde va a subir?

Esa es la parte de la historia que quiero que recordemos.

No porque piense que la historia vaya a repetirse exactamente.

No será así.

Sino porque la naturaleza tiene una memoria más larga que la nuestra.

Y hoy estamos viendo desarrollarse otro fenómeno de El Niño muy fuerte.

Así que esta vez, quizá podamos hacer algo que la gente de la década de 1870 no podía hacer.

Podemos mirar hacia atrás.

Podemos mirar a nuestro alrededor.

Y podemos prepararnos.

No con pánico.

Con amor.

Por nosotros mismos.

Por nuestros vecinos.

Por los agricultores.

Por los niños.

Por los ancianos.

Por las personas que no tienen un lugar seguro al que ir.

Por las personas al otro lado del mundo.

Por toda nuestra familia mundial.

Porque de eso trata realmente esta historia.

No del miedo.

De la preparación.

Y quizá, si somos lo suficientemente inteligentes...

la próxima generación no tendrá que contar esta historia como una tragedia.

Quizá la contarán como la historia del momento en que la humanidad vio las señales de advertencia...

y realmente escuchó.

---

Preguntas para reflexionar

Maestros y maestras:

1. ¿Qué están enseñando a la próxima generación sobre cómo sobrevivir y cuidar de un mundo cambiante — más allá de lo que dice el libro de texto?

Estudiantes:

2. ¿Qué pueden aprender y hacer ahora para no sentirse indefensos cuando su comunidad enfrente una crisis?

Políticos y responsables públicos:

3. Si saben que la alteración del clima puede amenazar los alimentos, la vivienda y la seguridad, ¿qué están haciendo realmente para preparar a su comunidad — y dónde está el plan?

Enfermeros y enfermeras:

4. Cuando la próxima emergencia sobrecargue el sistema de salud, ¿quién cuidará de las personas que no tienen otro lugar adonde acudir — y están preparados?

Médicos y médicas:

5. ¿Están tratando las enfermedades relacionadas con el clima y los desastres como algo que ya está afectando la salud humana, o seguimos esperando a que la crisis sea imposible de ignorar?

Agricultores y agricultoras:

6. Si una sequía, una inundación o un clima extremo amenaza sus cosechas, ¿qué podemos hacer ahora para proteger el suministro de alimentos?

Científicos y científicas:

7. ¿Qué están observando que la gente común necesita comprender — y qué advertencia estamos dejando de escuchar?

Estrellas de rock y del cine:

8. Millones de personas los escuchan. ¿Para qué van a utilizar esa voz cuando el mensaje podría realmente salvar vidas?

Líderes empresariales:

9. Cuando llegue la próxima emergencia climática, ¿su prioridad será proteger a las personas y las comunidades — o proteger las ganancias?

Todos nosotros:

10. Cuando la historia mire hacia atrás en este momento, ¿dirá que conocíamos las señales de advertencia y actuamos — o que las conocíamos y no hicimos nada?

Tina Winterlik — miércoles 7 de octubre de 2026

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once upon a time — come close, kids

 

once upon a time — come close, kids

Once upon a time...

Come close, kids.

There's a sad story I need to tell you.

It's a true story.

And I'm telling you because it could happen again — maybe sooner than we would like to think.

I don't want to frighten you.

I want you to know.

Because when we know what happened before, we have a better chance of preparing, protecting ourselves and the people we love, and protecting our whole world family as much as we possibly can.

So get yourself a cup of tea.

Grab a cookie.

And maybe a tissue.

Because this one is a little sad.

Then we'll talk about what we can do.

Once upon a time, in the 1870s...

There was a world without satellites.

No weather apps.

No phones buzzing with emergency alerts.

No computers watching the oceans.

People had to look at the sky, the rivers, the crops and the animals — and try to understand what the changing world was telling them.

And then something extraordinary happened.

The oceans changed.

The atmosphere changed.

The weather changed.

And in 1877–78, an extraordinarily powerful El Niño became part of a much larger climate story.

What followed was one of the most devastating climate-related food crises in modern history.

People didn't just experience bad weather.

They experienced hunger.

And millions of people lost their lives.

Now come a little closer, because here's where this old story becomes important to us...

It didn't stay on the other side of the world.

The climate doesn't respect borders.

Drought in one place can affect food somewhere else.

Floods can destroy farms.

Failed harvests can send food prices soaring.

And when people can no longer survive where they are, they move.

They look for somewhere safe.

Somewhere with water.

Somewhere with food.

Somewhere with people willing to help.

And that brings our old story home...

To **Victoria.

To Seattle.

To the Fraser Valley.

To the place that would soon become Vancouver.

And to Ottawa.**

Because while Vancouver wasn't yet a city, the Fraser River was already showing people what it could do.

In 1879, after the terrible years that had come before, the Fraser rose dramatically again.

The Sumas area flooded.

Farmland was damaged.

A bridge was swept away.

People watched water take pieces of their livelihoods away.

Imagine standing there without a weather radar.

Without a phone.

Without an emergency notification.

Just watching the river rise.

And wondering:

How high is it going to go?

That's the part of the story I want us to remember.

Not because I think history is going to repeat itself exactly.

It won't.

But because nature has a memory longer than ours.

And today we're watching another very strong El Niño develop.

So this time, perhaps we can do something the people of the 1870s couldn't.

We can look backward.

We can look around.

And we can prepare.

Not with panic.

With love.

For ourselves.

For our neighbours.

For farmers.

For children.

For elders.

For people who have nowhere safe to go.

For people on the other side of the world.

For our whole world family.

Because that's what this story is really about.

Not fear.

Preparation.

And maybe, if we're smart enough...

the next generation won't have to tell this story as a tragedy.

Maybe they'll tell it as the story of the time humanity saw the warning signs...

and actually listened.

Reflective Questions

Teachers:

What are you teaching the next generation about surviving and caring for a changing world — beyond the textbook?

Students:

2. What can you learn and do now so you're not helpless when your community faces a crisis?

Politicians:

3. If you know climate disruption can threaten food, housing and safety, what are you actually doing to prepare your community — and where is the plan?

Nurses:

4. When the next emergency overwhelms the healthcare system, who will care for the people who have nowhere else to turn — and are you prepared?

Doctors:

5. Are you treating climate-related illness and disaster as something that is already affecting human health, or are we still waiting for the crisis to become impossible to ignore?

Farmers:

6. If drought, flooding or extreme weather threatens your harvest, what can we do now to protect the food supply?

Scientists:

7. What are you seeing that ordinary people need to understand — and what warning are we failing to hear?

Rockstars & movie stars:

8. You have millions of people listening to you. What are you going to use that voice for when the message could actually save lives?

Business leaders:

9. When the next climate emergency comes, will your priority be protecting people and communities — or protecting profits?

All of us:

10. When history looks back at this moment, will it say we knew the warning signs and acted — or that we knew and did nothing?

Don’t give up on the Greens

 Don’t give up on the Greens.

If you’re young and thinking, “What’s the point? The Greens can’t win,” remember what happened in 2017.

The Greens won only 3 seats, but the election produced a minority government. The NDP had 41 seats and the Liberals had 43. The Greens held the balance of power and reached a Confidence and Supply Agreement with John Horgan’s NDP government.

That meant the Greens didn’t have to win the election to have influence. They had seats — and those seats gave them leverage.

It happened before. It can happen again.

So don’t look at the numbers and decide your vote doesn't matter. Every seat matters. Every riding matters.

You don't have to give up hope just because your party isn't the biggest one.

🌱 Democracy isn't only about who wins the most votes. Sometimes it's about who holds the balance of power.

#BCPolitics #BCGreens #GreenParty #Democracy #YouthVote #DontGiveUp #VoteBC

🌱 10 questions for the kids before they decide their vote

1. What kind of B.C. do you want to inherit — and what are we building right now?

2. If a pipeline, LNG project or other major development creates jobs today, who pays the environmental and social costs later?

3. When governments promise that a project will be “good for the economy,” what exactly are they counting — and what are they leaving out?

4. Should governments be making long-term decisions about forests, water, energy and climate based on one election cycle, or several generations?

5. What happens when a government makes a promise and then doesn't follow through?

6. Do young people have to accept decisions made today simply because they're told those decisions are “inevitable”?

7. What would you rather see government invest in: housing, healthcare, transit and education — or more fossil-fuel infrastructure? And can we realistically afford both?

8. If no party wins a majority, could smaller parties hold the balance of power and demand action on the issues that matter to you?

9. Did you know that this actually happened in B.C. in 2017, when three Green MLAs helped keep an NDP minority government in power through a confidence-and-supply agreement?

10. And finally: if you don't participate, who gets to make these decisions for you?

You don't have to believe everything a party tells you.

Ask questions. Read the platforms. Look at the record. Then vote. 🌱

The Kelvin Wave

 The Kelvin Wave: When a Few Inches of Ocean Water Matter

There's another weather term making headlines this fall: Kelvin wave.

If you've been following the latest discussions about El Niño and the unusual warmth of the Pacific Ocean, you've probably seen the term popping up in social media feeds and weather reports.

But what exactly is a Kelvin wave, and should those of us living in the Pacific Northwest be concerned?

First, let's clear something up. A Kelvin wave isn't a giant wall of water racing toward the shore. It isn't a tsunami, nor is it something we're going to see rolling in while walking along the beach.

It's a large movement of warm ocean water, often associated with El Niño. As this warm water travels along the coast, it can temporarily raise sea levels by several inches.

That might not sound like much. Six inches, after all, is hardly a tidal wave.

But context matters.

Imagine those extra inches arriving during an unusually high tide, a king tide or a powerful Pacific storm. Add strong winds, elevated water levels and pounding waves, and suddenly those few inches can make a significant difference to low-lying coastal areas.

And that's where things get interesting for the Pacific Northwest.

Here in British Columbia, we're surrounded by water. Vancouver's relationship with the ocean is part of our geography, our history and our everyday landscape. We enjoy our beaches, waterfront parks, marinas and ocean views. But living beside the water also means living with its power.

A Kelvin wave alone isn't something to panic about. However, it is another reminder that coastal flooding doesn't happen in isolation. Several natural forces can combine to create conditions that are more damaging than any one of them would be on its own.

There's also the marine environment to consider. Warmer ocean temperatures can affect marine ecosystems, shift the distribution of fish and put pressure on species that depend on particular water conditions.

The ocean is a complicated system. What happens thousands of kilometres away can eventually influence the waters along our own coastline.

And while we tend to focus on the immediate weather forecast, there's a much bigger conversation taking place about rising sea levels, climate change and the long-term vulnerability of coastal communities.

It's easy to dismiss a few inches of water. It's considerably harder to dismiss the consequences when those inches are enough to flood a road, damage a waterfront property or disrupt a community.

I think that's the part worth paying attention to.

We don't need dramatic headlines predicting disaster every time a new meteorological term appears. We do need to understand what is happening around us, take environmental changes seriously and recognize the importance of preparing vulnerable communities.

The Kelvin wave is not a reason to run for the hills.

But it is another reason to pay attention to the ocean.

Because sometimes the biggest changes don't arrive with a dramatic crash. Sometimes they happen slowly, quietly, and almost unnoticed, until we realize just how much has changed.

And perhaps that's a lesson worth remembering far beyond the Pacific shoreline.

the little glass paradise

 the little glass paradise

I'm sitting outside a coffee shop in Vancouver on October 4, watching people.

And wow.

Vancouver has changed.

Maybe COVID changed it. Maybe I just haven't sat in one place and really watched the city like this for a long time. But yesterday and today, I've been noticing things I might normally just walk past.

Families with little kids riding electric bikes. People from all over the world. People who seem to have good jobs and money. Expensive bicycles. Expensive cars. Older people with really nice walkers.

Everyone moving through this strange, shiny version of Vancouver.

I'm sitting here in a neighbourhood of towers.

There are beautiful little rosemary and lavender bushes. A few trees. The sun is lovely, and when you're sitting directly in it, it's actually quite warm.

But step into the shade and it's chilly.

And I keep looking around.

Cobblestone. Pavement. Glass. Concrete. Towers.

Not much green.

No green walls that I can see. No green roofs. Not much soil. Not much canopy.

It is a little glass-and-concrete paradise that somebody has carefully designed.

And it really is nice.

That's the strange part.

I'm not sitting here complaining about how ugly it is. It's beautiful in its own way. People are enjoying themselves. Children are laughing. People are drinking coffee. Bikes are everywhere. The landscaping is neat and intentional.

But I'm wondering about the future.

Because summer must be very different here.

What happens when the sun beats down on all this pavement and glass for days?

What happens when the heat doesn't go away at night?

What happens when we get another summer of wildfire smoke?

What happens when extreme rain arrives and there isn't much soil or green space to absorb it?

And what happens when the big storms get bigger?

We keep building upward.

Glass towers. More towers. More pavement. More people packed into smaller spaces.

And I understand why. Vancouver needs housing. People need places to live. We can't pretend cities are never going to grow.

But are we building cities for the Vancouver we used to have, or for the Vancouver we're going to have?

Because those may be two very different cities.

I keep thinking about the little things that actually make a city resilient.

Trees.

Shade.

Soil.

Gardens.

Green roofs.

Rain gardens.

Places where water can actually soak into the ground.

Places where people can sit without baking on concrete.

Places where birds, insects and other little creatures can still exist.

Green isn't just decoration.

Green is infrastructure.

And then there's the human side of it.

Sitting here watching all these people, I can't help noticing how different everyone's lives must be.

Somebody has the expensive electric bike.

Somebody has the expensive car.

Somebody is carrying a designer coffee cup.

Somebody is pushing a walker.

Somebody is raising children.

Somebody is working upstairs in one of these towers.

And somewhere else in Vancouver, someone is trying to figure out where they're going to sleep tonight.

That's Vancouver too.

I have spent enough time outside in this city to know that climate change isn't an abstract concept.

You feel it.

You feel the heat.

You feel the smoke.

You feel the rain.

You feel the cold when you don't have a door to close behind you.

So I'm sitting here in the sunshine, enjoying this little urban paradise while I can.

And I'm wondering:

How will this place feel in twenty years?

Will these towers still feel like little glass paradises?

Or will we look back and realize that we forgot something incredibly important when we built them?

Nature.

Not as an ornament.

As part of the city itself.

Maybe the future Vancouver needs to be more than taller.

Maybe it needs to be greener.

And maybe the real measure of a successful city isn't how expensive its buildings, cars and bicycles are.

Maybe it's whether people — and the living world around them — can actually thrive there.

 

the view from my easel: what happened to canada?

October 4, 2026 | Vancouver, British Columbia

It's a chilly October 4. The sun is shining, the sky is beautiful, and I'm sitting at my little pop-up art show in a nice Vancouver neighbourhood, surrounded by towers, concrete, glass and the everyday comforts of city life.

I've brought my original oil paintings out into the world. Forty-five paintings, two collections, and a whole lot of hope. I'm trying to raise $4,000 to get back to Mexico, where I hope to survive the winter and live a little more freely until my pension begins in February.

But as I sit here, my mind keeps returning to what I saw on the way.

Just up the street is a homeless shelter. Not some beautiful transitional housing facility with private rooms, gardens and support services. It's an old Art Knapp's building, now covered in tarps and being used as a shelter.

I saw people coming out. Men, mostly white, in their 40s and 50s. They looked worn down, unwell and as though life had taken a terrible toll on them.

There was urine on the road. I crossed a bridge and encountered human waste and a pile of something burned.

And then there was the man with the severely curved spine and surgical scars.

I don't know his story. I don't know what happened to his back, what surgeries he underwent or how he ended up in that shelter. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to live with a serious physical condition without a proper place to rest, recover or even sleep comfortably.

Where is the medical care? Where is the accessible housing? Where is the dignity?

And where is the safety net?

These are not abstract political debates for me. I am witnessing the conditions right here in my own city.

I've been without stable housing since 2019. I know what it means to live without the security of a home, to stretch a few dollars and to constantly wonder what happens next.

And now, as I sit here trying to sell my paintings, I'm thinking about what happens if I don't.

How do I get to Mexico? How do I pay for food? How do I make it through the winter?

I look around this neighbourhood. Beautiful towers rise above the streets. People walk by with their coffees, shopping bags and busy lives. There is nothing wrong with that. People are entitled to live comfortably.

But what kind of city are we building when a few blocks can separate such different realities?

We have people living in expensive towers and people living in emergency shelters that look like temporary construction sites. We have people trying to recover from serious health problems without stable housing. We have people who appear to have fallen so far through the cracks that the cracks have become their entire world.

And this is Vancouver, in one of the wealthiest countries in the world.

Our federal government can announce grocery benefits and affordability measures. Politicians can talk about economic growth, infrastructure, investment and building a stronger Canada.

But what does all that mean to someone who has nowhere safe to sleep?

What does a $90 grocery payment mean when you don't have a kitchen, a refrigerator or even a secure place to keep your belongings?

What does economic growth mean when people are visibly deteriorating on the streets?

And why are we so accustomed to seeing it?

I keep thinking about my MASH-unit idea: small, mobile, modular housing with private spaces, proper sanitation and access to health and social services. Not another tarp-covered building where people are simply warehoused until the next crisis. Actual places where people can begin rebuilding their lives.

Why is it so difficult to imagine providing people with a safe, clean place to live while they work toward permanent housing?

We have the technology. We have the skills. We have the resources. What we seem to lack is the urgency to match the scale of the problem.

And I know I'm only one person. I'm an artist sitting at a little pop-up show, watching the world go by. I don't have a government budget or a development company. I have a collection of paintings, a bicycle, a few belongings in storage and a plan to get back to Mexico.

But I have eyes. I have memories. I have lived experience.

I can talk about what I witness.

And what I witnessed today was deeply unsettling.

It's not just the urine on the pavement, the burned debris or the makeshift shelter. It's the human beings behind those scenes. It's the possibility that some of these men once had ordinary lives, jobs, families, homes and plans of their own.

It's the knowledge that a serious injury, a lost job, a mental health crisis, a relationship breakdown or a financial disaster can change someone's life in ways they never anticipated.

And it's the realization that a society's safety net is only as strong as the people it actually catches.

I don't want to live in a city where suffering becomes background scenery. I don't want to become so accustomed to homelessness that I stop noticing the people experiencing it.

I don't want to see someone with a badly damaged spine and wonder how on earth he's supposed to manage another night in a makeshift shelter.

I want better for him. I want better for all of us.

Today, the sun is shining on my little art show. My paintings are colourful. People are walking by. Life is carrying on.

And yet, I cannot shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.

What happened to Canada?

More importantly, what are we going to do about it?

Because a country should be measured not only by its wealth, its buildings or its economic performance, but also by how it treats the people who have the least.

And right now, sitting here in the sunshine on a chilly October afternoon, I am not impressed by what I'm seeing.

 

Red Dress hanging in Seaforth Peace Park

october 4: remembering our missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls

Sisters in Spirit. No More Stolen Sisters.

October 4 is a day of remembrance. A day to honour the lives of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (MMIWG), to remember those who are still missing, and to stand with the families who continue to seek answers, justice and healing.

Ten years ago, in 2016, I was beginning a personal journey that would change the way I looked at history, reconciliation and my own connections to Indigenous heritage.

From September 2016 to April 2017, I attended Langara College's Reconciliation Carving Cohort.

I called my online documentation My Langara Reconciliation Carving Journey. It became a collection of research, thoughts, feelings, photographs, reflections and creative work. My intention was to learn, share and contribute in whatever way I could to a better future for the next seven generations.

My Langara Reconciliation Carving Journey

That same year, I was also documenting and sharing images in support of the REDress Project by Métis artist Jaime Black.

The REDress Project is an aesthetic response to the thousands of missing and murdered Indigenous women across Canada. Empty red dresses placed in public spaces represent the women who are no longer here, making their absence visible in a way that is difficult to ignore.

I photographed the REDress display at Vancouver's Peace Park in Kitsilano in October 2016.

I shared those photographs and information through my blog and social media, using hashtags such as #MMIW, #SistersInSpirit and #NoMoreStolenSisters.

I also collected and shared posts from across Canada documenting marches, candlelight vigils, songs, ceremonies, speeches and the voices of families demanding justice.

Looking back at those old posts is an emotional experience.

I see the faces, the red dresses, the shoes representing women who were missing or murdered, the gatherings of people who refused to let their stories disappear.

I remember the public conversations, the calls for a national inquiry and the hopes that things might finally change.

I also remember the words of family members and advocates who questioned what reconciliation actually meant when Indigenous women and girls continued to experience violence and disappear.

One statement from a family member in 2016 has stayed with me:

"Their reconciliation feels a lot like colonization."

That was a powerful reminder that reconciliation cannot simply be a government promise, a speech, a ceremony or a symbolic gesture. It must be measured by real changes in people's lives.

And what about the families still waiting for answers?

What about the women whose cases received little attention, whose disappearances were dismissed or whose lives were treated as less important?

What about the mothers, daughters, sisters, aunties and friends whose absence leaves an enormous hole in their families and communities?

We cannot talk about reconciliation while ignoring the ongoing violence, discrimination, poverty and systemic failures that Indigenous women and girls continue to face.

Nor should remembrance be limited to one day of the year.

Ten years have passed since I took those photographs and began documenting that particular chapter of my own learning journey.

I have continued to explore my Indigenous family history, my connections to the past and the meaning of reconciliation. I have learned that listening matters. So does humility. And so does recognizing that Indigenous voices, families and communities must lead the conversations that affect them.

Today, I look back at those photographs and posts as a small part of a much larger movement.

I am one person with a camera, a blog and a desire to document the world around me. I cannot undo the past or solve the injustices that persist. But I can remember. I can share. I can keep asking questions. And I can refuse to let these stories be forgotten.

Today, October 4, I remember the missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls.

I remember their families, their loved ones and the people who continue to fight for answers and justice.

I remember the red dresses.

And I hope that one day, our daughters, nieces, granddaughters and the next seven generations will live in a world where their safety, dignity and lives are never in question.

No More Stolen Sisters.

#MMIWG #MMIW #SistersInSpirit #NoMoreStolenSisters #REDressProject #TruthAndReconciliation #IndigenousWomen #SevenGenerations

 

when survival becomes a full-time job: justin ducharme, sex work and the dreams of our youth

How many young people have to struggle just to afford the opportunity to pursue their dreams? And how many are forced into making difficult choices simply to survive?

I came across a CBC story about Justin Ducharme, a young Métis filmmaker from Manitoba who moved to Vancouver to pursue his education and his passion for filmmaking.

Like so many young people, he found himself broke, far from home and struggling to pay his bills. He turned to sex work because he needed to survive and wanted to continue his education rather than abandon his dreams.

His words stayed with me.

"I needed to survive."

Think about that for a moment.

A young person, trying to build a future, faced with the reality that the cost of living could force him to give up everything he had worked toward.

This is not just Justin's story. It is a reflection of a much bigger problem.

We live in a society where young people are told to dream big, work hard, get an education and make something of themselves. Yet we have created an economy where housing, food, tuition and basic necessities can be financially out of reach.

What happens when a young person has ambition but not the financial means to support it?

What happens when survival takes precedence over everything else?

Sex work is a complicated and often misunderstood subject. There are people who enter it by choice, people who enter it because of economic circumstances, and people who experience exploitation and coercion. Those experiences are not interchangeable, and we need to recognize the differences.

But we should be asking ourselves why so many people, including young people, face such limited options in the first place.

Justin Ducharme did more than survive. He kept creating.

His first feature film, Seventeen, premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September 2026 and is screening at the Vancouver International Film Festival this month.

The film follows three young, queer Indigenous sex workers in Vancouver over the course of 17 hours. It explores loss, connection, belonging and the importance of chosen family.

What I find especially meaningful is Justin's intention to tell a different kind of story.

Rather than reducing sex workers to stereotypes or portraying their lives only through tragedy, he wants to show their relationships, tenderness, intimacy and humanity.

He credits the other sex workers in his life, particularly those who mentored and supported him when he was young, for helping him get to where he is today.

That is community. That is people looking out for one another when the world doesn't necessarily make room for them.

And that is something worth celebrating.

As a society, we spend an awful lot of time judging people for the ways they survive. We debate morality, sexuality and personal choices while often overlooking the circumstances that shape those choices.

Perhaps we should spend more time asking why a young person needs to choose between pursuing an education and paying rent.

Why is affordable housing so difficult to find?

Why are so many young people living precariously, working multiple jobs or relying on whatever income they can find?

And why are the people who have the least financial security so often the ones expected to shoulder the greatest burden of responsibility?

I want to see a world where young people have genuine choices. Where education doesn't come at the cost of basic survival. Where housing is a human necessity rather than a luxury. Where people aren't forced to sacrifice their safety or well-being just to make ends meet.

Justin Ducharme's success is something to celebrate. But I don't want us to lose sight of the circumstances that brought him to sex work in the first place.

His story is also a reminder of the power of art.

Film, photography, painting, writing and all forms of creative expression can open doors into lives we might otherwise never understand. They can challenge our assumptions and help us see people as individuals rather than labels.

Justin is a filmmaker, an artist and a storyteller. He is also a young Métis man whose lived experiences have helped shape his creative work.

His film deserves an audience.

And his message deserves to be heard.

Let's support independent filmmakers. Let's listen to Indigenous and queer voices. And let's start taking the economic struggles of our young people seriously.

Because surviving should not have to be the price of pursuing a dream.

Reflective Questions

Why should a young person have to choose between education and financial survival?

What does economic freedom really mean when basic necessities are unaffordable?

How much of our judgment about sex work comes from stigma rather than understanding?

Are we doing enough to protect and support young people who live far from their home communities?

What role can art and storytelling play in changing the way we see marginalized communities?

Zipolita'Z Pop Up Art Show🖼🎨:Water Is Life & Fire Next Time

 

The Fire Next Time by Zipolita

🎨 🎨 zipolita's pop-up art show: water is life & the fire next time

📍 @inbtwncafe
1625 Hornby St., Vancouver

Come down and see @emilys2ndact for a little POP-UP ART SHOW featuring two original oil painting collections: Water Is Life and The Fire Next Time.

There are 45 original oil paintings in total, priced from $25 to $200.

🌊 🔥 A special offer for collectors, businesses and art lovers!

I would prefer to sell each collection as a family, keeping the paintings together as a complete body of work. I am offering a special price if you purchase an entire collection, or even better, both collections.

Looking for something different for Christmas? These paintings could make wonderful gifts for family, friends, employees, clients or even a special addition to your office or business. They could also make memorable gifts for staff Christmas parties, holiday gift exchanges or someone who appreciates original art.

❤️ Help an artist get back to Mexico!

My goal is to raise $4,000 to get back to Mexico for the winter. I am hoping to make that money stretch until February, when my pension begins.

Vancouver, you know how hard it is to survive here. Imagine trying to do it as an independent artist, living without a permanent home and working toward a little sunshine and stability.

Every painting sold brings me one step closer.

Come support a local artist, enjoy a coffee, meet some friends and perhaps take home a little piece of original art.

Buy one painting, buy a collection, or help me get both collections off to a new home.

🌴 Mexico or Bust!

#MexicoOrBust #Zipolita #EmilyS2ndAct #WaterIsLife #TheFireNextTime #OriginalArt #OilPainting #VancouverArt #PopUpArtShow #SupportLocalArtists

📍 @inbtwncafe
1625 Hornby St., Vancouver

Come down and see @emilys2ndact for a little POP-UP ART SHOW featuring two original oil painting collections: Water Is Life and The Fire Next Time.

There are 45 original oil paintings in total, priced from $25 to $200.

🌊 🔥 A special offer for collectors, businesses and art lovers!

I would prefer to sell each collection as a family, keeping the paintings together as a complete body of work. I am offering a special price if you purchase an entire collection, or even better, both collections.

Looking for something different for Christmas? These paintings could make wonderful gifts for family, friends, employees, clients or even a special addition to your office or business. They could also make memorable gifts for staff Christmas parties, holiday gift exchanges or someone who appreciates original art.

❤️ Help an artist get back to Mexico!

My goal is to raise $4,000 to get back to Mexico for the winter. I am hoping to make that money stretch until February, when my pension begins.

Vancouver, you know how hard it is to survive here. Imagine trying to do it as an independent artist, living without a permanent home and working toward a little sunshine and stability.

Every painting sold brings me one step closer.

Come support a local artist, enjoy a coffee, meet some friends and perhaps take home a little piece of original art.

Buy one painting, buy a collection, or help me get both collections off to a new home.

🌴 Mexico or Bust!

#MexicoOrBust #Zipolita #EmilyS2ndAct #WaterIsLife #TheFireNextTime #OriginalArt #OilPainting #VancouverArt #PopUpArtShow #SupportLocalArtists

Pop Up Art Show @ InBtwn Cafe

 

Tina Winterlik aka Zipolita

Tina Winterlik aka Zipolita

Zipolita is at @inbtwncafe today! 🎨

1625 Hornby St

Vancouver 

Come down and see @emilys2ndact — it’s a little POP UP ART SHOW!

Original oil paintings, $25–$200.

Every painting sold helps me get back to Mexico for the winter. 🌴
#MexicoOrBust

Come say hello, have a coffee, and maybe take home a little piece of art.

#oilpainting #originalart #popupartshow #vancouverart #supportlocalartists #emilys2ndact #mexicoorbust #artforsale #oilpaintings #zipolita

1\. What makes an original piece of art worth more than a print or a photograph? of art worth more than a print or a photograph?

2\. When you look at a painting, do you see what the artist sees, or something entirely your own?

3\. Have you ever fallen in love with a piece of art without knowing why?

4\. If a painting could tell a story, what would you want it to say?

5\. Does art need to be beautiful, or does it simply need to make you feel something?

6\. What does it mean to own a piece of art that no one else in the world has?

7\. Can you imagine the time, patience, emotions and experiences an artist puts into a single painting?

8\. Would you rather own a painting that matches your decor or one that challenges your imagination?

9\. How does having original art in your home change the way you experience your space?

10\. If you could take home one painting today, which one would speak to you, and what would make you choose it?

✨ Because original art isn't just something you hang on a wall. It's a little piece of someone else's imagination that becomes part of your story.

🌊 WATER IS LIFE Paintings — TOMORROW! 🌊

 

🌊 WATER IS LIFE — TOMORROW! 🌊

I’ve got 20 original oil paintings ready for the first of my two pop-up art shows!

📍 Inbtwn Café
1625 Hornby St., Vancouver

I’m bringing paintings inspired by water, nature, life and our connection to the places that sustain us.

☀️ Tomorrow is looking beautiful, so come have a coffee, see some art and say hello!

And then, weather permitting…

Zipolita'Z ArtworkZ

🔥 THE FIRE NEXT TIME! 🔥
Sunday

Two collections. Two very different themes. 🎨

I can’t carry all 45 paintings at once — so I’m bringing them out in two chapters!

Hope to see you there. ❤️

Zipolita'Z ArtworkZ

#WaterIsLife #TheFireNextTime #KitsilanoArt #VancouverArtist #OriginalOilPainting #PopUpArt #LocalArtist #CanadianArtist #ArtInVancouver #OilPainting