Truth within, and truth without with the vehicle of imperfect words. From dark soils of Africa, in those lands first blessed. With the hot might and strength of fresh solar quest. Did sprout what best things a fallen base earth. May offer the Journey-Man who, wandering abroad. And driven by thirst to sever each cord. That binds to the usual, seeks hope and relief. From the burdensome cross of vacant belief. How happy we were! .

Her hands shake as she raises the tumbler to her lips, arthritic hands bent in unnatural places. She wants to smack her lips when the glass is empty but she does not want to be. She wants you to know that she still cares about her 80 year old skin. The thing with waiting is not knowing. How much longer you need.

I almost want to apologise for being flaky. I do not see that happening. 8221; My heart bursts with gratitude.

The Diary Of a Christian Chic. Musings of a Not so Average Nigerian Woman Souled out to God. Tres Amazing Blogs I Love. Who is Christian Chic? Mentoring on the Fab Lane- The Journey So Far. Holler, Holler, Holler.

These are the days I feel most alive. I was always the last person to leave the premises because my mother was always late. And take the opportunity to talk with her when she finally came around to picking me up. Afterwards, they would make side commentaries to me, Oh, your mother is very lovely. I would smile in return and forgive them for making me detest my life and school that much more. I did not like it at all. And just have mine alone to worry about.

We have like minds, You and I. For notifications on Twitter, or subscribe to the blog. 8220;Who we are is of little concern. The action or right of going out of or leaving a place.

What are they called now? Twist and curls instructors? Well, whatever it is, this post is a giant FUCK YOU to every hairdresser in the universe. Please, hairdressers, if I say a shoulder length.