Dawn came with the alarm.
No. I set the time to later. Dawn is not as early as it used to be. Six is when I want to be out of bed. Six thirty is when it is light enough to read.
I don’t want to read by the harsh electric lights. At dawn, they break the peace. An intrusion into the softness of everything. So I switch on no lights when I wake.
Today the alarm woke me.
And as I turned over, I remembered that he was supposed to wake at six too.
Woke him up. An early morning appointment, and he was soon out of the house.
I love this part of the day. Stood in the doorway. Read a poem as I gazed out. And wrote one. And another. And I liked them.
Switching on the computer is an intrusion. Welcome as my mind seeks the world to know. Again.
I am a news junkie.
As stated, my MP was charged. As was another opposition MP.
The Kabaka, king of
The Kabaka of Buganda has been on a cold war with the central government for a few years. The war is heating up. Gradually, but dangerously. Another, very tribal conflict is looming. Or already is.
Life is the most precious asset that we are handed at conception, delivered at birth. We value it, apparently very little. Yet we do not have spares to it. And there is little that we can do to repair it in Africa, in
My lover was looking over my shoulder, and is scared that I am putting these things on the blog. Why? Because I am skirting the ‘permitted’ edge of my freedom to be, as known by others.
Yet, I jumped out of one closet, I have realised that I am in another one when I do not have the freedom to think.
Freedom. It is a wonderful concept, yet most of the time, we do not realise that we are behind bars. Even those of thought.
It is a lovely morning, out. I will hold him in my arms, and hope that the sun shines always. On my country, and on my city.
Well, even if it rains, I will still hold him close. I love him.
What is more beautiful than love in life? I know little else. I am content.