I didn’t write as a child. I didn’t even become an avid reader until I turned 13. Each time I recount this experience to people, I always imagine what runs through their minds. Then you should write more. Some might think. You have your memories as a child with you, still. When I started reading, I tried to reinvent the lives of writers I read. I created their childhoods, their struggles with the writing process, and their views of life. These shades of nuances, and the love of it, sunk me into more books, into biographies that helped sprout the lives of the people I admired before my eyes. I soon began to see life as a source for creation, as a place where, by some alchemy, you could turn words into worlds. Continue reading
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Nǐ hǎo ma?
Things i say almost every day now. See I moved out of that overpriced school apartment and settled for a room of about the same size, across the street, for $200 cheaper and my new neighbours are Chinese.
I’d say very quickly that there’s something all the Chinese I’ve ever met share: they’re fast and eager learners. You talk with a Chinese person who started speaking English last year and you realize that they put more effort into it than Nigerians who have interacted with English since primary school. Continue reading