Retired from Canada’s JTF 2, I now work on writing and film photography.
“Their dying wish was to begin again.”
— J.R. Watson
J.R. Watson
She writes from the point of view of outcasts and misfits, bringing a new perspective and incisive wit to her tales of relationships gone wrong. With a smoky voice trained on jazz classics and a stacked backing band, she combines a vintage sound with modern material to thrilling effect.
“The less I know the better.
I lost my love. Tired of my failures, she left me alone on some rocks.
She’s gone in search of something better.
Now alone I wonder with whom she walks.
But, the less I know the better.”
J.R. Watson
In the mornings the yellow sun would rise and bring about the birds and the bugs. A little higher and it’d rouse the critters in the trees; the beavers and the bear. And it would shine on the slopes for the deer. The wind would tilt the tree tips as it woke with the sun, flowing to her from the west, it breathed life into the forest, into the animals, and into us. We’d eat and we’d laugh. We’d hunt and we we’d craft. And in the evenings the red sun would set. We’d gather ‘round the fire and settle. We’d give thanks to the day, give thanks to our friends; human and natural; and eventually we’d dance. We’d dance until the sky turned black and the stars came out to speak. They spoke thier stories; stories of our past, stories of who we were. And sometimes if we were lucky, the stories about the future.