Today's images focus on what's simple and good, because the world we're in can often seem just the opposite of both those things.

Manchester is the city from whence I left, more than four decades ago, when my family immigrated to Canada.

Fast forward to 2017, and immigration is a tainted word, connoting more fear and hatred than it does hope and promise.

I've read this hate today, in the comments sections of various media, and in the words of friends and even relatives.

Why is it that white, Christian people get away with overtly hating Muslims, while at the same time being among the first to blanket all Muslims - or any others whose skin colour or religion or race is different - with the egregious stereotypes of fomenters of hate and violence, of criminality, of brutality, of inferiority and contemptibility, by virtue of their of Otherness?

Hate is hate. It doesn't matter what your genetic, ethnic or religious fabric is made of. Your moral outrage against the many is not justified by the actions of the few. Last week, a White man ran down dozens of pedestrians in Times Square, with fatalities. Where was the moral outrage then, as soon as it was determined that he wasn't a Muslim terrorist. Look back in history - all cultures, races and creeds are guilty of atrocities. This includes you, the so-called civilized Western world. Like it or not, we're all humans; we all bleed red, and we're no better or no worse than the next person, even if we convince ourselves otherwise. The world doesn't owe you any more than it owes anybody else.

Most of us are immigrants; indeed, we don't have far to look up the family tree to find someone who made a bold, brave move into the unknown, leaving behind everything that was familiar, to make a new start. My dad did that for my family. Does that make me any more Canadian than a Syrian or a Haitian or a Tunisian who followed a similar path?

This whole nativism trend is a travesty of thinly-veiled contempt wrapped up in abject hypocrisy.

You're entitled to your hate. But it's yours, not mine, and it will come back at you tenfold. 

J'accuse.

Je refuse.

Je me désabuse.