If all lovers were beggars, I would win.
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The man from Sugezi
Here’s the thing about psychological baggage, it never forces you to look inward. It’s always the other person and my uncle is notorious for this.
Not the one I wrote of last, no. That one didn't have trouble accepting he was a YOLO addict.
This one I'm talking of lives in a big white flat on a hilly hill in the suburbs of Kampala.
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Short writings inspired by this photo
Settling rumours & Who squares the circle? Read More
Random thoughts at a Christening
I'm sitting on the back pew staring at the front screen
The Reverend says we do not take the trouble to woo the Lord every hour
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October
It rains every night and afternoon
That's as often as I think of you.
My carpet gets soaked most nights
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Nobody loves no one
nobody is true
nobody loves
some boys I've met
are like that CCTV camera light
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Of bitter Anglican Reverends…
This is me at all family gatherings. All the faces look pretty familiar but can hardly put a name to the face. The squishy muddy grass and throngs of leesus make it sink in that Kojja is really dead. A face I know is brimming with a smile and it seems like it’s directed at... Continue Reading →
Aquaman: the gods must be modern
I am fond of watching my entertainment from my pixel burnt laptop screen wrapped up in cozy covers with the lights off. If I am to go to the cinema, it has to be 3D to make my troubles for a change worthwhile. I waited for the bustle to wind down about this much anticipated... Continue Reading →
I'm always mind mapping 