‘ello Harperers, sorry for missing a few beats.
The last couple of days involved much car-parking and walks around new neighbourhood shopping centres for necessities because hey to the yo, finally showered and baby powdered clean at a hotel at my home town, birth home. Whatever that means for you.
As I lie awake 1.56am of a new day I am yet to greet, I just wanted to contemplate on the realness of the song-phrase, “Reunited and it feels so gooood” because people usually associate this with well, people, but I sing this anthem for the roads I used to freely wonder at eight years old; the horrendous yet incredibly skilled driving and drivers; the sounds of pure air-condition, not those weird ones we now call “coolers” or what knows when that happened.
Upon our descent from a maddeningly dull flight, when the interior plane lights dimmed and the city brightened from above, the thump thump thump, palpitating drum beat of giddy, leché, home struck hard.
For now though, it’s really off to shut these eye gates and lock the imaginations with exhaustion bars. Tomorrow is fully associated with another slice of reunited (old, good friends), and deep, faithful courage in myself and my accented-fluency in the native language of my home soil.
Wish me fried chickens.