Catherine and I have been exploring Iqaluit. I take photos of her on the frozen shore, looking out over Frobisher Bay. Back in the hotel room I discover that the camera mechanism has frozen, preventing me from rewinding the film. In an attempt to fix it I inadvertently expose the film to light. Catherine is devastated that the one opportunity she will ever have to be photographed in the Arctic has been ruined.
The manager of the Discovery recalls the Toonoonik. She says it was where the liquor warehouse is now. She speaks with a strong Newfie accent. “Right thick.”
I volunteer to walk to Arctic Ventures to buy tampons for Catherine. It may be a form of empathic symptom transfer but by the time I get back my male parts are numb with cold. I’m like a brass monkey.