Ava Dunkel

Two people hold books in front of their faces so only their eyes are exposed as they look at each other. The one on the left has red hair, a red top and glasses, and the one on the right  wears a black beanie and fingerless gloves.

As a child, there was nothing more sacred than my uninterrupted, unsupervised computer time.

Illustration of a rack of clothes, a floor lamp, books and household items with thrift store tags hanging off of them.

Every Value Village has the same smell. If you know it, you know it. If you don’t, it can be best described as dust, cigarette smoke, peculiar perfumes and other mysterious odours all mixed together. I also happen to know what it smells like if you take that smell and set it on fire.

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