The downfall of a man
The downfall of a man is not the end of his wife.
Make una softly-softly for end-of-year parties o.
Town hard o.
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The downfall of a man is not the end of his wife.
Make una softly-softly for end-of-year parties o.
Town hard o.
I am joyful today that I gave birth to a new baby.
As a writer, I am always very happy to see my new book in print.
A book is like a child: it takes a lot of work to raise a child.
But the credit for raising a child doesn’t belong to the parents only: the community also supports the parents as they raise the child from infancy to adulthood.
Àkòdì Òrìṣà artists painting the outside fence at Ile Ife, Nigeria.
Hope is my only light
Out of all gloomy nights
Whatever hope fights
Hope prevails
Yesterday, my friend, Femi, called from Maryland and we had a long and beautiful conversation on the art of social distancing.
He wanted to buy a painting.
I told him I was happy to sell a painting and sent him a picture of the work.
I said the painting would look good as a Zoom backgrounder—like when FOX News calls and wants your opinion.
Are you going to panic because the artless interior of your home would suddenly become exposed to hundreds of millions of people on television and social media?
My phone rang.
“Àlàó?” I said after picking it up.
“Hello, prof,” said the sweet voice on the other side.
It is definitely a woman, I decided. But I don’t know the number. I shouldn’t have picked up the call. But it was too late.
So, I kept quiet.
The simplest thing, as ordinary as just inhaling and exhaling, is an amazing feat of enjoyment.
When you can inhale and exhale, just enjoy it because it’s priceless.