This essay was in its first form, a letter to a friend In the summer of 2021, I travelled to France for 12 days with a group of amazing people doing great work in XR. I hoped the trip would allow me the opportunity to spend time with people I…

After my first breakup, my interest and ability to visualise romance in my life disappeared. Where I had always dreamed of marriage, the ending of that relationship spelt the Thanos-Esq fading away of those dreams. The breakup wasn’t the cause of this happening, it had been a wonderful time and…

This one actually feels hopeful — Sometimes I sit in my room and think about how every single thing in it -everything about it -is mine. I spent money from my own bank account to own it*. It is a complete and refreshing feeling. It’s a new feeling. …

Sitting down in heavier-than-usual traffic, watching the price climb on a costlier than usual uber ride, I couldn’t help but remember that last year, I promised myself that I would not spend this December in Lagos. And I failed. I haven’t liked December in Lagos for a while and this…

A couple of years ago, I stumbled onto an episode of the Modern Love podcast that led me to this New York Times essay titled To fall in Love, do this. That essay led me to this research paper. The premise of all of this is that there are 36…

Say what you want about Lagos drivers, Ibadan drivers are worse. I think that says a lot. There is a distinct way I have in the past tried to describe the difference between a Lagos driver and an Ibadan driver. Lagos drivers are known for their aggression. A Lagos driver…

In the spirit of superimposing meaning onto otherwise random events, I have been thinking of my life as something new. I have been thinking that maybe, I have just entered a new phase. Entering a new phase is significant because it gives me an excuse to think of certain things…

Why art means so much — Start simply by looking at it. What is it a painting of? An object? A person? A group of people? A place? Or maybe it’s more complicated than that. Maybe the painting makes a statement — something literal. Like The Treachery of Images by Rene Magritte.

I have pain in the right side of my pelvis. It’s chronic — this pain taught me the meaning of the word. Chronic: (of an illness) persisting for a long time or constantly recurring. I have had this pain for two and a half years now. What does it feel like? I have difficulty describing…