Memories. And, Cracked Gets Around

Earlier today I left my apartment and stopped short at the elevator.

For a minute, I was transported to childhood, back to the apartment my grandmother lived in when I was small.  I could see and smell it as clearly as I could then.  And I haven’t set foot in that place in 30 years or more.

There was some thing in the hallway here, some scent I couldn’t identify that took me there, or maybe it was the quality of light through the windows.  It was an eerie, but beautiful, feeling.


It’s August in Toronto, but I’ve been, for the most part, in a desk chair.  (I know.  Cry me a river.)  But Cracked?  My book, she gets around.


cracked in pool Arka


On the left, we have Cracked being enjoyed beside someone’s pool, and on right, Cracked is hanging out in Tokyo.

In the next weeks, I’ll be posting more Cracked Gets Around, and of course Cracked with Babies and Animals.

If your copy of Cracked has gotten around — or you have babies, animals, or in fact regular grown-up people who are reading it, send me a picture!