Cressida J. Heyes



The chief of the Soda Creek Indian Band likened the area touched by the spill to a spiderweb[17]




I live in northern Alberta, home of the tar sands—a series of giant pits of mucky bitumen mixed with the earth in a way that is incredibly difficult and destructive to extract. Think: cavernous bites taken out of the ground; giant tailings ponds of silty toxic goo; dead animals; cancer.


Lots of transient men work in trades in the tar sands, for Canada’s best money. They travel a long way to get there, but they don’t plan to stay. They lodge in temporary housing, take drugs, drink, and buy sex. It’s a grim world, by all accounts.




“What I’m saying is, you weren’t freely expressing yourself by being raped by three men.”[18]


looking back, she would have done things differently[19]


the leak can no longer be seen from the air[20]


Safe is a relative notion[21]





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