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The Lost Stations takes its title from the decommissioned rail stops along Toronto's Beltline Trail — places where the speaker once walked with her father, now overgrown or nearly erased. These abandoned sites become a governing metaphor for interrupted passage, inheritance, and all the ways landscapes hold on to memory.
Written across borders during a period of global crisis, the collection resists the pandemic as its sole frame. Private mourning opens outward into fossil records, migratory routes, damaged habitats, and domestic thresholds.
The Lost Stations takes its title from the decommissioned rail stops along Toronto's Beltline Trail — places where the speaker once walked with her father, now overgrown or nearly erased. These abandoned sites become a governing metaphor for interrupted passage, inheritance, and all the ways landscapes hold on to memory.
Written across borders during a period of global crisis, the collection resists the pandemic as its sole frame. Private mourning opens outward into fossil records, migratory routes, damaged habitats, and domestic thresholds.
