These words shall be my legacy. I used to be a rapper. I used to be a dancer. I used to read a lot. I used to have friends visit me at home. I used to be more social. I used to write poetry. I used to be a sculptor. I used to draw regularly. I used to make music. These are words I hope to never say. I used to make photographs.

Musings, mutterings and prayers of the chronically undefineable. Should the Lord give you the good gift of a husband or wife, and I hope He does, there are a few things I want you to know. Things that you may not hear from anyone else, and certainly not on TV or other media. Sadly, your church may not even tell you.

Part serious, part satirical blog about all things Nigerian or pertaining to Nigeria or of Nigerian origin. I have a mechanic guy that services my truck. A panel beater guy because Keke Marwa. Are the most ruthless thing on Lagos roads.

Snowflakes from my Snowglobe mind. Welcome to the fourth post in The Graduate Monologues. But what happens when that euphoria fades away? 1,216 more words.

Get me outta here! Yours in vodka and arrows. Life continues in a fro and sneakers. 25 to-dos before I turn 25. I love cartoons, i cling to them like a dog clings to his smelly bed. They are just about the only thing i can hold and keep myself from been a boring adult.

Enter your email address to follow T. T and receive notifications of new posts by email. I like people and I like them to like me, but I wear my heart where God put it, on the inside. Navigating, but not sure of the destination.

Mirror mirror on the wall. who is the blackest of them all. I remembered I needed to get toiletries and a couple of provisions that had run out.