I am a tweet. A few nimble fingers just sew me together to add to a thread, or, be as an illustrious stand alone. * I am here. But not in a powerful point of essence. Sometimes I make myself out in the impressions of shadows; altered, incomplete, marred or made, depending on the mood….
Dear, Nome, Abdallah, Siju, or Ifechukwu, I just received your words, and you do not know how ecstatic I am that you are finally going to take that brave but important step into the convoluted conformation, of your true self, despite our Nigerian horizon. And as you requested, I’ll be detailing some of my experiences…
I. Imagine this; You are on a fairly occupied danfo bus where bodies haven’t begun to stymie the freedom of using your phone. It could be a taxi though or even a BRT, really any arrangement that will allow you to lean back or rest your head on the age browned window sill -which ever…
Dear Whoever, In case it has crossed your mind, This isn’t me. This shiny skin, this eternally excited person, hopping about life without any tinge of a past. Of an originally bland, moody, closeted skin. This is a graft, a literally ‘gay’ extraction that is learning new tunes, tunes that played in a far background,…
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