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This could be a sad story or a love story - depends on who’s reading.
I wrote something on the Nigerian Civil War, I thought you might want to spare some time to read it....
I see you lurking in the fields. Between the maize crops. In a white jalab and your hijab wrapped delicately...
We are fragile and imperfect, and sometimes, the hardest truths are those we have to tell ourselves.
Maybe the second & minute hands should never have been determinants of our fates. How is something so inanimate &...
The rickety clock reminds me of time. Of a time when we ate jollof rice & merried. When all we cared for...
Road trips. Arrows and signs pointing in the right direction. Landscapes and hills graced by the beautiful sunset with shrubs,...