It was the first thing she did in the morning and the last thing she did at night. She sat on her bed, very close to the window; a pink and blue scarf tied to her head and prayed. She nodded a lot while she prayed. There would be no tears. He gave you the name because you were always crying like an. Emere to tobi, bawo lo se ma n travel? Since .

STYLE TUESDAY WITH MAZZI TALKS. TEARS LOST IN THE RAIN. THE ONE I ALMOST LOST. Although the review carefully brought out the misconception of the book it seemed to base its judgement mainly on the weaknesses of the book and the strength of the book is greatly underplayed. The book portrays the basic element of journalism as it is entailed in .

We have collaborated with the talented photographer, UA, to bring you the AFREADA Photo-Story Competition. Write a Flash Fiction piece for a chance to win 100! October 31, 2016. This story was published as the winner of the 2016 AFREADA Photo-Story Competition.

Our Wounds Are Still Healing. For The Hands That Hold Me. A Love Like Ours Ona Akinde.

Even now as I write these words, I can feel my soul recoil within me. Nevertheless, the rules remain the same. My name is Dimeari and I am a multi-client, simultaneous, limited mileage, freelance chauffeur. Never, ever, ever call me a taxi driver or a cab man. This Christmas, I thought a lot about Herod.

1 The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.

Originally posted on Nadirah Angail. People ask her, Still no kids? Her response varies from day to day, but it usually includes forced smiles and restraint. Nope, not yet, she says with a chuckle, muffling her frustration. New days, New chances! January 1, 2016.