I’ve been on the road far too long to know not where to go, and if I would ever go to a place, it will be to my own place. A place I can call my own, truly!
Over the last years, I have been moving from town to town, village to city, I have met a considerable number of beautiful, mild, generous and bad people – I have met the black and white of them.
I have slept in unimaginable places – think airport, and funnily, I had joked in a class that I am still looking forward to sleeping in Airports again.
From Casablanca to New York, from Lagos to Istanbul, from Istanbul to London, how do I explain how I slept on chairs that aren’t comfortable for anyone let to think of me; but in retrospect, I will still do it again – if and when I have to.
As a go-getter, a rolling stone that gathers no moss, I keep rolling, bouncing, moving and doing. If life shows me the kindness to be anywhere with any family again, it would be my own family and I will stay, and enjoy the process of spending time with them.
But until then, I will keep moving, keep being on the road and keep believing that maybe one day, I will be home again.