Think. Speak. Write.
Oga John is a short tense film drawn from our present-day encounter narrating the subject matter of “mental health” and colliding two worlds apart. It explores the use of cinematic storytelling, which is rarely employed in Nollywood movies.
Continue reading ““Oga John” tells an Effulgent Cinematic Story Dealing with Mental Health. “
“The strangeness of past is something we can’t escape from, so we might as well embrace and learn from it.”
I’m obsessed with the old-fashioned way of doing things. Then, the culture and style was awfully awesome. Once, I told my mom that I wished we were still in the era when we wrote each other letters. I wasn’t born into that era but I have had heard so many stories my mom had carefully narrated– of the letters, she and first love who died of cold in Italy, wrote to each other. And the ones she had exchanged with my dad while he was in London ( I would later find out my dad even kept a diary).
Nothing excites me more than good music. My shrewd music taste can be traced back to my early exposure and appreciation of music as little as I was immersed in Yanni’s music . It was a very weird music choice for a little girl in the 2000s.
Between being outgoing and loquacious, or introverted and reticent, I’m mostly the latter. My childhood ripped me open to a world of books than people. I was tad awkward around people especially girls. But my social skills while relating to boys weren’t so bad neither was it that good.
Continue reading “Introversion: How not being Socially Modish is Ridiculed as Uncool.”
One of things I clearly love in the movie “Lion Heart” is the way Genevieve Nnaji carries herself – the calm and grace. But the movie didn’t reach its potential – I have expected the story to have some depth – for a movie bought by Neflix and with the ‘hype’ surrounding it too.
Lagos: in the mornings, everyone wakes before the sun rises. Between 4am and 8am is rush hour. When there are long lines of cars and trucks and buses on the streets and highways. Often as kids, we would hear about “the Lagos” on radio and TV shows, read about it in magazines and newspapers, and listen to the tales Mom told about it; of her adventures in while living there. It is a city of chaos, yet there is something of rare quality – the beauty, some say is authentic, others say is unashamed and rad.
Continue reading ” Lagos: The City Of Chaoticness and Rare Wonder”
Before I took writing serious, I used to scribble words and sentences from books I had read on paper- then it didn’t mean anything to me. My childhood was nothing if not imaginative, I read to escape something at that moment; I don’t know what it was, maybe my reality, it is all hazy now. When my thoughts became scribbles, too, it seems I was writing because I could create the reality I have always wanted. I just can’t put my hands on it, I know there must have been something. Something why this means so much to me.
