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Ain’t all roses tho—sometimes you get a masseuse who don’t know shit. Hands like sandpaper, no rhythm, fuckin’ disaster. “You’re not my sister,” I’d say, like in “Fish Tank,” ‘cause it feels wrong, y’know? But when it’s good? Oh man, it’s like floatin’—muscles melt, stress gone, little friend happy. Hella therapeutic, bro, no lie.

Burnaby massage therapist charged with sexual assault

This city, my friend, packs surprises. Seriously, cycling around Brentwood Bay, past Hastings Street, I swear I heard the echo of "Moolaadé" whisper in the wind – echoes of revolution, solidarity, and a call against injustice. It’s a vibe like no other. I cant even… sometimes I get so mad when I see how smoothly families unite in Burnaby, balancing work and joy, reminding me, "No, no, no, we won't stand down!" And then bam! I remember my own therapy sessions, where warm conversations, shared over a cup of Joe at The Wild Fig, always made me feel like “it’s all gonna be alright, as we march together!”

Liberals win in New Westminster-Burnaby-Maillardville, flip NDP stronghold