The air rushed in to soak me in its cold embrace, erasing my last memory of the naughty sun and slowly, the sweaty droplets froze on my forehead.
Smiles never change.
Though the colour of teeth may darken and wrinkles surface, yet smiles form exactly as they have from many years ago. Continue reading “Life Lessons From An 82 Year Old.”
Green leaves, red earth.
Dusty tables, cracked walls. Continue reading “Rural Prologue.”
I’m going to own a cranberry coloured Jaguar XF, and I will pick strangers in it. At least that is what I tell myself. Continue reading “Streeting it in Eko.”
Moving at an accelerated pace, it makes only abrupt stops in a bid to either take in more into the already stuffed space or create a brief relief of dropping off.
Its badly scrapped surface barely able to preserve its yellow colour, giving an impression of stains rather than intended colouring with an even more pitiful interior; a real eye sore telling tales of long-suffering passengers. Continue reading “The Yellow Bus.”