Oh, you thought.
Of-course I’m back! I’m doing this on multiple non-specific socially connected workspaces that I function in, staging a dramatic return. But I come bearing stories of this thing called life.
Have I ever told you the story of the time I bought my lecturers chocolates as a token of appreciation? Which probably in the corridors of academia read as a bizarre neglect of obvious social cues. But I’ve grown so much since then, and am now in full grasp of how goods of chocolate value should be distributed.
The Thriving Butterfly
Look
Mum, look
I’m just like a butterfly
I’ve broken free
I’ve awakened
I’ve risen
Did I do it right?
Undergone my change
Filtering white light
So you can see me
So everything else pales?
As you can imagine, my very Nigerian mother didn’t appreciate the insect imagery insertion into our recent conversation, and simply looked around in a mild panic that maybe her only girl child was losing it. Coming through in this lovely weekend is a tale of “how I came to Stan a metamorphosis of sorts for myself”, to be fair the poem is better.
