BUSAYO A.

On Monday of Last Week is a really intriguing piece. The fact that I could relate with this story was one of the reasons I picked it to writ

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

Many people have experienced this loss – having someone who was so close to you ...what do you do when the fire of that love is just.. lost?

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

Is that longing ever even satisfied in us? When we go back to a place we feel at home in, is that longing ever really quenched, or just quie

I have a bit of a story time for today’s blog piece. There is a poem I tried to write about two years ago. When the idea came to me, it...

… for once [or for a change], I am here to report joy.

But the most precious thing that album gave me was a safe harbor on some of the hardest days of my life. I am not sure why...

I am writing to you on a serene morning of Easter Weekend. It is mostly quiet, an hour or so after sunrise and a quiet drizzle plays over...

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

I think the reason why those poems helped is very obvious; they show us that we are not alone.

We scrounge around trying different things, or the same thing over and over again and find no rhyme to this world very often.

But really, with this, I am only stopping by, as it were, to give you something to fix you into this moment, get you to pause and remind you

I think about this quote that summarizes things; some years ask questions, others answer them. Maybe this was one of the years that answer

The second night, there were fewer streetlamps, and more mountains. I knew I was getting closer to home.

Ideas are what civilizations are built on in the end. But what ideas matter? Which ones lead us towards better?

What is proper art? And how can we work to consider joy within art as worthwhile, as necessary?

And now, I think about this painting, of this woman sitting in a chair, likely in her house, pre-occupied in the easy brightness of her own.

There are many things that we consider as beautiful that do not take on any specific shape, or colour or form.

Some soft, gentle poems for you. Enjoy {Big love} King Durian A poem fell into my lap. And I cut it up wrong Like durian fruit. Into...