Dusty Wentworth

There is a quiet, painful irony in modern writing: the very mark of punctuation once used to capture the rhythm of human thought—the em dash—is now often treated as a tell-tale sign of artificial intelligence. It seems strange that a simple line could lead to an accusation of machine writing, yet in our rush for ‘content’, rhythm and expression are now met with suspicion. I remember when writing was taught with care. We learnt about structure, tone and the weight of a pause. Penmanship mattered. Words were crafted with intention, not mass-produced. Those of us who came before Google, before mobile phones and home computers, grew up with typewriters, pens and paper. We thought electric typewriters were cutting-edge. Writing meant thought and effort, not algorithms and templates—a distinction young writers now struggle to grasp. The em dash was once a writer’s most faithful ally. It carried a change of thought, a shift in emotion, a breath between words. It wasn’t decoration;...

Two years ago, my life changed in an instant. I had no idea that one ordinary morning would mark the beginning of a journey that would test every part of who I am. October 23rd, 2023 — a date that changed my life forever. It began like any other day, until suddenly it wasn’t. I collapsed without warning at home. When the ambulance arrived, stroke was ruled out, but that was only the beginning of what would become a long and life-altering journey. Doctors didn’t think I’d survive. Yet somehow, I did. ‎ The Eleven-Month Inpatient Battle What followed were eleven long months as an inpatient — three different hospitals, two stints at a Neurological Rehabilitation Centre, and countless challenges along the way. I was fighting battles not only for my health, but for my identity, my independence, and ultimately, my future. Those months were some of the hardest of my life. Every day brought new challenges: learning to move again, to speak clearly, to remember, to rebuild. The neuro...