Costenos
This post is already too long. Cartagena wouldn't hold dear to me if it was just another Spanish inquisition Museum... jotting notes of the place reminded me oh so much of my home, Togo.
Home Returning
Home is when your ailing uncle drained out of his blood, stares you in the eye bloodshed worried for you. Your only grief is one that time may heal, yet his life’s purpose is to humbly be about others. Home is the joy, the brotherhood, walking in the streets
Taking Flight
It is again sort of that time of the year again, where I get to live out of my bag for 2 weeks, headed to Iceland, Denmark, Sweeden, Norway and Germany. Instead of a play by play of these oh so well covered nations, I'm inclined more to
Citizen of the world
Somedays I yearn for my home, where I come from? perhaps where I belong. My home in my mind is the place I grew up. The church bells through the city during lunch time The Muezzin so zealous, the monring call to pray, sounds like one made in the middle