love
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I’ll be the first to admit it, waiting is hard. Really hard. Whether it’s waiting for a dream to come true, a door to open, or clarity to come, the in-between can feel unbearable. The doubts creep in. The frustration builds. And the question that haunts us all: Will this ever happen for me? I’ve
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This week, I spent time on the verse below and I couldn’t help but share my thoughts on it with you, long read but I think it is worth it.🤓 “The Lord appeared to us in the past, saying: ‘I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.’” –
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February arrives with crisp air and a quiet sense of determination. Gone is the heaviness of January, the weight of resolutions burdened by uncertainty. Now, the days stretch forward with purpose, infused with renewed energy and a sharpened focus. There are no tears in February only lessons carried forward, transformed into wisdom. The past does
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I As I stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for work, I couldn’t help but admire my reflection. At 43, my skin looked so fresh with hardly a wrinkle in sight. Honestly, I could almost pass for 25! Can you believe that? 😂✨ I decided to write an Ode to the African Brown
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Ah, happiness, the elusive pot of gold at the end of life’s ever-winding rainbow. Or, perhaps, a mirage shimmering on the desert of existence, always promising an oasis just one step further. What a concept! What a farce! What a triumph of human self-deception! And yet, we cannot live without it, can we? After all,
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Sometimes, love isn’t in the grand gestures or sweeping words; it’s in the quiet moments, the unnoticed details, and the way someone makes you feel effortlessly whole. For me, this is a love story of you—how the thought of you brings a smile that lingers and a warmth that brightens even the greyest of days.
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Close your eyes and imagine this, a snowflake drifting from the heavens, its delicate crystal arms outstretched in perfect symmetry. It’s unique, irreplaceable, and stunningly beautiful, much like you (yes, you!). But here’s the meat of the matter, its life span? A fleeting moment. One wrong landing, one unexpected gust, and poof, gone. Snowflakes are
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There’s something special about the place where your soul first learned to sing. For me, that place is Nigeria, a land where the mornings awaken with the rooster’s proud crow, ushering in a new day. It’s a sound that once seemed mundane but now feels like a call to return, a reminder of simpler times
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I woke up early, just as the first faint light crept into the sky, illuminating the thin layer of frost on the window. The room was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like it carried something unsaid. I wrapped a blanket around myself and shuffled to the kitchen, where the ritual of coffee-making
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Femi’s childhood in the bustling streets of Lagos was filled with vibrant colors, lively sounds, and endless adventures. His favorite memories, however, were of afternoons spent under the mango tree in the shared courtyard, where he often found Adamna. She was the light of the neighborhood, a graceful Ibo girl whose laughter rang like music.
LifeSightsSound 