All in Art&Style

The Best Social Media Analogy I Ever Heard

The images on social media are like the case of the Newscaster who sits at his desk, airbrushed, water-based makeup on, perfect hair, tie knotted, shirt crisp. He begins to speak, everything is excellent. Then the director yells, “Cut!” He gets up from his chair, and the truth is revealed—he’s wearing no pants...

 
 

Love Bite: Entry #9

For the first time in a long time, I got on my knees and prayed. Leke had been missing for four days; I couldn't go to work; I still didn't know who was sending the videos. It was a mess- a hot mess.

I heard God likes hot messes. He could fix them.

Please bring Leke home. 

It was all I could mutter. I laid my head on the bed, whispering those words over and over. Quickly, the bedsheets dampened with warm tears and my sobs, muffled against the soft cotton. If God heard me, he wasn't in a rush to respond. I stayed on my knees until the stiff protrusions of the rug tendrils digging into my knees faded away and I fell asleep.  I woke with a start to the vibration of my phone. I squinted at the screen. It was a text message. A strange number...

Love Bite: Entry #8

Leke had vanished. For three days now, I got to hear the annoying, high pitched voice which announced that his phone was off. He wasn’t at the church, neither was he at Pastor Remi’s. He hadn’t spoken to his siblings in six weeks. His mother suspected nothing when I asked if he had called her to say hello, instead she began to talk about grandchildren.

I focused on calling Leke’s phone every ten minutes.

On the evening of the third day of his disappearance, Abigail drove me to the police station and we filed a missing person’s report...

20 Ways To Adult Like A Pro

Adulting is like nothing I’ve ever seen! There is the professional ladder climb, work politics, crazy-people management, food portion control, dried raisins and carrots as snacks, self-control exercises—such as cutting up credit cards, dependence on reason and a moral code, the ocassional glass of red or two...hundred(kidding) ...

Love Bite: Entry #7

It was 10.50pm. Leke had fallen asleep after the pastors left. Dinner had been a slow ritual graced by the clinking of cutlery on plates, light chatter, and an uneasy Leke, who chuckled nervously at all their jokes— even the ones that were drier than harmattan-crisp leaves. All night, he waited for the important discussion, but it never came.

I did that—I destroyed his career.

Sure, now I had to tell him. Maybe Jare would do the same—tell his wife. He'd put us out of this misery. That woman. They were the problem—Leke and Jare’s wife. If they could be erased from the picture somehow...