Thursday, 29 July 2010
Home is a wanderer’s desire
Or ever recurring nightmare.
Home is root and seed
And beginning and end
To every life story.
Home is mother’s love
And or father’s aura.
Home is a web or a blanket
Or a bank of fear or hope.
Home is the roof that separates
You and the hot, scorching sun.
Home is the belly of the catapult
And the stone’s final stop.
In another life, Alia should have been finishing Senior High or be in the university already but she’s not complaining. In fact, s...
Wow, it feels good to be back on here again. I have had severe withdrawal symptoms these past few weeks I’ve stayed away from this blo...
A couple of years ago, a European photographer friend of mine started a photo project called The Last Kings of Africa. He moved from co...