sixteen baab

October 22, 2012 at 9:01 am | Posted in life | 3 Comments

They say a nigga return, but I never left

It’s been a while.

How I’ve always wanted to say those words.

Just for the personal triumph of leaving a stone unturned.

Has it gathered moss? Are there earthworms beneath, wriggling through a layer of wet, fine red soul so neatly subdued?

Aahh old habits, most of them pensionable, wistfully resting. Dusting them from a store room behind the main house: always a welcome relief.

See, a blogger passes, the blog remains.

Will you blog about it?

It doesn’t feel right to be served supper with a side dish of comments on a post.

No, it wasn’t that bad.

Some evil alter-ego nemesis masquerading as my adventurous self is to be framed.

Speaking of framing, have you ever held an item for so long before finally deciding upon appropriating it a position it deserves?

Yesterday I put up a painting of some African women in song and dance. It was a gift from some quarters. As I stepped back and looked up on the first item I’ve ever hoisted up my wall,  there was a sadness about it. Inexplicable. Perhaps, it was in terms of : is that my only achievement to date?

ffwd >>


Last interaction, a transaction. Gone wrong.  Circumstance of elephants on the loose, rogue!


Sparsely furnished. Minimalist. Ha!- who-am-I-kidding. My place, I mean.

So yeah. Postmortem:  They phone notably on a higher end. Sleek even. Also, on my dressing drawer were coins.

It hit me too late: she counted them.

Every single one of them.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.


playing: uptown anthem ~ naughty by nature


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