A rural Venus, Selah rises from thegold foliage of the Sixhiboux River, sweepspetals of water from her skin. At once,clouds begin to sob for such beauty.Clothing drops like leaves."No one makes poetry,my Mme.Butterfly, my Carmen, in Whylah,"I whisper. She smiles: "We'll shape it withour souls."Desire illuminates the dark manuscriptof our skin with beetles and butterflies.After the lightning and rain has ceased,after the lightning and rain of lovemakinghas ceased, Selah will dive again into thesunflower-open river.

Sports are never just sports, we all know that. You're always carrying the flag in some way, shape or form.

I still think that there's some kind of psychological investment in black athletes carrying the flag for "us" at times. So, sports [remains a] metaphor for struggle and triumph and flair.

I feel lucky to live at a time when the dominant tennis players are Venus and Serena Williams. And to have lived through the success of a whole slew of boxers and feel I could invest emotionally and psychologically in their victories, and identify with them in their struggles.

All books are merely delayed dust.

The way racism works in Canada, it's very subtle. You may feel you're a victim of racism or have experienced racism, but you can't necessarily prove it - unless you get a [white] friend to go check out that rental, go check out that job, whatever. Unless you're willing to really dig to prove you're a victim of racism, it might be difficult to do that. And so what you're dealing with then is feeling, it's emotion.

Redefine the sport in terms of your expertise, in terms of your talent, in terms of your strength, in terms of your flair. Make it interesting. Make it something that people want to watch.