Archives for June 2017

It was a terrace in Lagos and a very hot, humid evening. 

Easy to wonder why the amazing traffic and smiles went together in this crowded, noisy and fascinating concentration of living. 

Surprisingly, as conditions were so difficult then, a tourist told me about his day and what he’d seen.

I just made sure the bathtub was full of water as I left in the morning, the water was not always running in the evening when I returned. A First Class Hotel is not the same thing everywhere.

It was business. As usual, for everyone who called the city home; as most unusual for me in a place that needed a month to understand even slightly. I had three days. 

Three days I will always smile about, fondly, when the memory is relived..

.. 

An old car, it was the first, bought of hard and slowly earned money.

However reliable or not, beautiful or ugly, fast or slow, rusty or perfect, that first car will always outperform all future ones in terms of meaningful ownership. 

The purpose and usefulness of owning it vastly exceeded any pride in any other object she ever bought, or indeed was given as a a gift. 

Some things are true originals, genuine and once only in their meaning.

The next time it rains, watch the drops, hear the patter and store the feeling.

One by one experiences accumulate value, forever. 

Now where, they asked. 

Which corner of the forest, which table, which part of the store, which aisle of books, which range of giant video monitors? 

Or, shall we just travel? 

If we keep our eyes open, our ears tuned and noses fresh for the scent, we may gather something new. 

If we stay we can still travel, said the guru.

But then, he does say these things and he may be right, but where’s the diverse terrain and the wonderful “how do I ask for water?” moment in that? 

You are joking. We all our, Without intent.
…

The side orders of each day vary.

Some days have rainbows of big numbers and ideal statistics.

Other days have soft warm breezes, coffee at a pavement cafe and the perfect pain au chocolat. 

We like both. We also like the days of painting, writing, walking sand shooting the breeze. 

We shoot with eloquent phrases and stumbled word assemblies that become legendary. 

We are children of children who may just have grown up.

…

Eternal warmth of the friendly aliens.

People from elsewhere try harder to be welcoming…so it often seems. 

Elsewhere is not yet a country, a county or a town. 

Elsewhere is a possible definition, a play on things that float at a convenient height. 

Aliens in fact, are living beings from another planet and so far… we do not seem to have any at all. 

So who’s talking about a revolution?