Of self psychoanalysis
He did not notice when it began, only that it always began the same way—with ease. With laughter that did not ask for effort, with conversations that stretched into the soft, unguarded hours of the evening, with the quiet comfort of being known in small, unremarkable ways. He collected people like this, gently, without intention.…
The Gate, the Boy, and the Gaslighting
It began, as these things often do, not with the event itself, but with a disturbance—small, almost laughable in its origin, yet curiously persistent, like a dull ache that refuses to be ignored. The boy—this new “housie,” as you have taken to calling him with a mixture of irony and irritation—has a voice that does…
A Coward’s Realization
On courage, the absurdity of overthinking love. There comes a moment in a man’s life when, after years of mistaking movement for courage and philosophy for wisdom, he must confront a far simpler and more humiliating truth: that he has been brave in nearly everything—except with his own heart. I had never truly paused to…
The art of appearing unbothered
They bestowed upon me an award last year — Best Don’t Worry, Be Happy. Imagine that: a small, glittering token of tranquility, handed to a man who has known very little peace. The office applauded; laughter floated about like dust in sunlight. They all seemed to agree that I am the calm one, the man…
A VISA’s weight
I wake before dawn, with Phuket on my mind. Its memory is a candle in the dark: translucent green water, soft sand under my feet, laughter drifting from the market stalls. Last year’s Bali was easy—digital visa, a day’s wait, and everything fell into place. Bali felt like home then. But Phuket was different. It…
A bunny for Easter?
This Easter weekend began like a soft hymn, sung in the quiet of dawn. We packed our bags with light hearts and heavier hopes, driving westward into the undulating hills of Kisoro — a place where the clouds seem to rest gently on the shoulders of mountains, and the air smells of both memory and…
Where Are You, My Twin?
I was born in a dimly lit hospital room, my first cries swallowed by the howling wind outside. There were others with me—tiny, wrinkled beings, struggling to take in the weight of existence. We were nameless then, indistinguishable, each of us swaddled in the same rough white cloth, our destinies not yet inked onto the…
The Vanishing
At first, I thought it was an accident. A forgotten reply, a moment of distraction. I told myself not to be absurd—people are busy, life is chaotic. And yet, as the hours dragged into days, and the days into a week, the silence became a presence of its own, thick and oppressive, pressing down on…
The Current and the Man Who Drifted
There are those who fight the current, who believe in the solemn duty of steering their own course, gripping the oars of their fate until their knuckles turn white. And then there are those who simply drift. But is drifting not a choice as well? Is it not a defiance more profound than resistance—a surrender…
The Longing for Companionship: An Existential Reflection
At my “fine wine” age, I find myself navigating the intricate web of relationships and the longing for companionship, deeply rooted in my upbringing within a close-knit African family. The warmth of community has shaped my identity, fostering a desire for connection that often feels like an existential pull—an urge to share life’s experiences, joys,…
Something went wrong. Please refresh the page and/or try again.
Follow My Blog
Get new content delivered directly to your inbox.
EastintheSouth 