43: Postcards.

This week, I am falling in love with the world again.

Monday, 15th June 2026

The sun delayed its arrival today. I know this because I danced in the shadows for a long, unmeasured hour. Normally, drinking a glass of water would have cost me an hour, but it was a morning of deliberate slowdowns. I drank two glasses of cold-brewed tea and swayed to a melody whose name has already slipped from my memory. Yet, I remembered it as a beautiful instrumental, simply because it made me think of the sea. I thought about being naked, watching the waves. I love the thought of it. I love the thought of water. And what is sweeter than cold water pouring over a body that I love?

Last night, in an attempt to nurture this skin, I smeared Vaseline over my thighs and face. My face had become a home for a small, stubborn blemish that had settled like an uninvited stranger claiming territory on my youth. The Vaseline gave me a temporary glow, and because I felt good in this body, I danced. On mornings like this, I find myself deeply grateful for the slow, beautifully meaningless hours before the world demands my soul in exchange for a sum that cannot comfortably handle a trip and back.

But silence is a fragile thing, easily shattered by the intrusion of reality. I raced down the stairs to prepare a meal, only for the sudden, cold weight of realisation to drop into my stomach: I had missed my deadline for an article I was supposed to turn in. Panic is a cruel master. I felt the theft of time so acutely that I could not even finish t

Tea

Tuesday, 16th June

Yesterday’s ruins spilt cleanly into this new day. My morning started with the harsh glare of my phone screen, my thumb mindlessly scrolling, shuffling between one fleeting reel and the next. It was yet an uneventful day that slowly turned into a good one when Mac called.

Mac remains one of the most bewildering, complex fixtures of this season of my life. To have a man twice my age attempt to school me on the grand architecture of love is a drama I never demanded, yet here I am, an audience to the plot. He arrived with a cold and similar stories, and I was too tired to give a story another thought. I got home and thought about serendipity and how fascinating it is that I was at a place at a time, and now I have people in my life. I engineered a slow evening and went to sleep with love on my mind. I blame that entirely on Daniel Caesar; that man is a menace.

Tuesday Outfit

Wednesday, 17th June

Yesterday I was cradling the thought of love, and today I spent my after-work hours on the phone with people I love.

It started with a check-in call. I dialled his phone and smiled the moment his face filled my screen. We spoke for barely five seconds before he smiled and said, “This girl is calling me”. He wore that shy, childish smile that a naughty child in trouble puts on. The type that proudly says, “I did it, so what”? I figured it was ‘the girl’ and let him be. Next up was my sister. She picked up immediately, and a few minutes later, we had a good time making fun of my brother.

We were still discussing when I word thieves slipped through the speaker. It was on the call that I realised that someone had cleared our parents’ coop. It happened in the very minutes we were laughing, and suddenly the air turned gloomy. We said goodbye, and I took it as a cue to have a midnight snack (spaghetti and avocado). I got a message from my sister minutes later; my brother was in the hospital.

He had one of his stomach cramps, but this time it was serious. My sister confessed that it was nothing she had seen before. I called them and watched him from my tiny screen. The distance between us was violently nauseating. I was sick of myself for not being able to fly there immediately. They assured me that he was fine. My mother insisted that I needed to rest so I could wake up strong for work.

I looked at the time, it was 1.23 am.

Conversation with my sister

Thursday, 18th June

The skies broke open this morning. I know it must have heard my sister speak about the last chick crushed by my parents’ turkey. Apparently, the thief had cleared the coop but left just three chicks. He returned to get two more after the commotion happened. Now, that little chick was crushed to death. Isn’t life comedic?

One fellow out there rejoices, feeling smart for taking from a family he assumes is living in abundance, while they battle quietly just to understand what is going on inside their son’s body.

Life is comedic.

Maybe the skies broke open out of empathy for my parents.

Today, I had to drag my feet out of bed today. I long for a weekend so I can read and rest. My brother is slowly recovering. We spoke over the phone, and I prayed silently to God to take away my ill thoughts; the curse of an imaginative mind.

Today, I wore my ugly Crocs to the office. They have gotten far more stares than I have lately, and honestly, that is fine. Bitches be hating on a stunning lady in ugly, cheap, oversized shoes.

Ugly crocs

Friday, 19th June

Today, I was completely bewitched by the magnificence of creative people. How fascinating it is to meet souls who allow themselves to be driven entirely by the things that make life important–poetry, music, and art. They are the true lovers of this earth, and I live to be counted among them. I sought refuge from the week’s anxieties at a poetry event and completely lost myself in the crowd.

You know they say that, “Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.”

This is the very reason we live. And walking home, I knew my weekend would start well.

Mental orgasm

To the one who taught me to fly and the one who made me stay in the nest.