A thin thread of something unnamed hangs tautly between us, spooled and fueled, growing in intensity, but also requiring strong consideration for interspace and pragmatism. But this thread that spools so deliciously, calling and pulling on invisible threads, is of the sweet, unexpected kind. The most dangerous thread of all.
Making: Plans for the end of next month when I move. Again. Cooking: Chapatis and eggplant stew. Drinking: Tea. Green, Mint and Black. Reading: African Love Stories; An Anthology – compiled by Ama Ata Aidoo. Wanting: A permanent job in EM. Playing: Sauti Sol ‘Sura Yako’ Wasting: My white sneakers that I just bought to […]