BUSAYO A.

But I ended the story on the note that I did because I wanted to leave the reader right in the middle of that dilemma. In the middle of that choice that needs to be made.

Four years since the rainy day in June when I decided to stop putting things off, and to put out my first piece and put my heart out there!

And to think a summer of boredom could do that, could possibly change the trajectory of how my mind works, and how I deal with life,

My first few years in Ondo town, I used the forest that stretched out before my school as a metaphor for the dense aloneness that I felt

My story ends with an almost happy ending. Almost. Because I am deeply fascinated by endings that are open-ended. That are not real endings.

But really, the big underlying hurt I noticed in this book is the loss of agency that Niger deltans have in what happens to their own land

I just don’t feel like I’m someone that could ever be okay with being average.

To be honest, balancing everything has never been so easy. It was a very different thing when I was a student and now that I work.

One of the workshop leaders pointed out how important it is to be kind while giving feedback I think everyone should know how to give advice

#OctoberReset SO… this is the blog post I promised you back in September. Aren’t you happy to hear from me? Well, I am to be writing to...

So many things that I didn’t believe I could do, I did without breaking too much of a sweat or without so much anxiety.

My speculative short story The Kinsmen, got published in an anthology printed by A Coup of Owls press. This is my second time being featured

It made me realize that there are so many angles to the idea of what home could be – from home as a place, to home as the people you love

This year, I touched a bit on how music shapes my creativity. Well, this will be the post where I discuss that even further...

My Art Is My Business

am not sure when my social awakening started.

And I remember that Sunday in particular; it was just like any other restful Sunday. I woke up, with the sun breaking past the cold of 6 am

But I tend to be shy about hope. The hope I have, as strong as it is, is always tender So I cannot help but admire trees and their boldness

The story is titled Burnt Orange and I started writing it in the very uncomfortable cocoon of the pandemic in 2020.

I finished my ice-cream that random afternoon, dusted off the crumbs from the pastry I had bought with it, and left the restaurant.