I have so many thoughts now but I don’t know what to write. It transpires every time I want to. I’m thinking about the lockdown.
I’m thinking about refugees of Aleppo and Palestine and everywhere else.
I’m thinking about books and coffee and the time I’ll go on a solo trip for Orisha and a cup of mocha, again.
I’m thinking about orphans who strive to have ends meet.
I’m thinking about the sick.
I’m thinking about what I’ll wear tomorrow as I go to work. Which outfits do you put on a Monday, in a lockdown?
I’m thinking of the day I’ll wake up and it’ll be world peace and on the news, the headlines will be “there’s no war, no hunger, no fights, no cries of help.”
I’m thinking of writing a letter to African presidents and remind them of the agenda 2063. I’m thinking that if we put politics and policies aside, for a minute, and we adopt solidarity, panafricanism + the inkotanyi mindset; making Africa one people, one country, one currency..is not hard.
I’m thinking of what the future of algorithms holds. If we can choose a partner by simply applying the 37% rule on all the chances we have, why not applying some maths to select herbs needed to stop a virus? Or it’s being done? How silly!
I’m thinking that journal writing is not easy. Particularly when you’ll blog about it.
I’m thinking about love. I think we need it more than anything. I think love looks like being kind, like helping others, like doing your best, like being patient, like you.
I’m thinking about hens and their eggs. Did you know there are 100 ways of cooking eggs? I only know three and so do you. I only know how to boil, fry and bake them.
I’m thinking…and I don’t know what to do.