I am an interpreter. Not the Nicole-Kidman-at-the-UN kind of interpreter. The other kind. The museum kind.
I live in Ottawa, Ontario, a place with a ridiculous number of museums from which I make my daily bread. I also make art (in addition to bread). I write fiction, too. As Interpreter X, I’ll write about acts of interpretation, random and specific.
The opinions expressed on this blog are my own. My language veers toward tart, my humour to sardonic, my spelling Canadian.