The cobwebs of deceit hang carelessly off the walls. Voices of disparage echo through the hallways, bedroom doors heaving with sighs and tears for what could have been…
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The irony of it though, of all the things you gave me this - inhumed us you left behind is all that’s lasted. The us that we were eats me up inside like a parasitic plant growing…
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I never did work out if there was a sewer nearby or an invisible ghost with a flatulence problem in the flat.
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When the evening sun folded shades of orange and tinted yellows around the hills around our village, merry neighbours would bring adibésé along with kola nuts, garden eggs, live poultry, dried fish and blessings.
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