BUSAYO A.

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

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?

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

… 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 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.

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.

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