Originally posted on augandanartist:
Pseudo Beautiful- Quasi cute; A Kind of Beautiful A “hey, wassap! whatchu do?” would maybe suffice. But asking if my braids are real is so not…
He kisses her, slow, steady, tender, unrushed, lips nape, neck…; for the moment, they forget that life is life once again, where everything good is vain and broken.
He munches on the stick of cassava held together with a splice of tomato:
“But this year the elections will be fair…”
They laugh, they cackle; was it a joke? maybe, maybe..
“Wacha! Let them waste their time, Mzee is already ready for them–“
Watching her sing, Memories crop up with in him, Partly in mind, and partly in heart; Memories of her whom he would soon forget. Of times past when their feet … Continue reading
It makes sense now, the laugh she had fought with earlier. It’s an iPhone six plus, coolest phone on the block for the ultra-cool with the money and will to spend it. You are not so cool anymore; You feel like a shit.. You feel like a turd and, as first as a hand that slaps you disappears from your face you hide your phone that is not even a quarter the size of hers both in size and worth. You know you cannot win this one, even combined with your katochi from the key and button age in your left side pocket, you know you can never meet a quarter the cost of hers. You are beaten, you have lost