beautiful living


I did not choose life in Lagos. My heart has always been firmly implanted in London. Nevertheless, lately I’ve been thinking that it isn’t so terrible of fate to have chosen this city for me.

Alex and I, and two of his friends,left the overwhelming hustle of the city, for the quietude of fauna and the sea. We stayed in a tree house cabin, where we watched ships dock from afar, as we drank beers and wine into the evening. We supped on grilled corn, mozzarella and cherry tomato salad, a potato salad and a fish bought at the market by the dock. We played card games and I lost in succession. We showered outside in the dark of the night,scrubbing our bodies fast, to get out of sight, feeling refreshed by the cool air and water.

Alex and I walked to a secluded beach late in the evening and early the next morning, before grilling some bread, garlic and aubergine for breakfast. Just walking, being intrinsic with the landscape was sublime. And yet we were spectators who watched crabs burrowing in the sand, stray animals grazing and shipwreck debris floating. I can report that observing nature remains as elusively numinous as it has always felt.

I have not written here in 9 weeks. That period of time was spent meeting and dating Alex and growing my personal art collection. I also received a fantastic job offer within the art world, which I rejected,because the timing was not ideal and I want to grow in my present position, just a bit longer. Nevertheless,seeds of confidence were planted within me and thankfully that window of opportunity remains ajar.

The boy spent 3 weeks in Paris, The Hague and Barcelona. It seemed the perfect time to replace the pleasure of his company with my great love,literature. I especially enjoyed reading Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake, Rebecca Solnit’s Women Explain Things to Me,The Summer that Melted Everything by Tiffany McDaniel(a little haphazard and too ambitious) and Big Little Lies (despite the somewhat pathetic ‘desperate housewives’ story line). I had been craving prose and poetry and reading Rupi Kaur’s Milk and Honey in one sitting, was just what I needed last week.



pictures taken at Babylonstoren, a Cape Dutch farm in the Western Cape of South Africa

Gosh it has been very many moons since I last found myself here. I just have not had the words to say,which is quite unusual for me. My life has altered in very many ways and for a long time I felt it only right to respect my current metamorphosis and just live in the moment.

What is there to say?

Over the summer I studied at Central Saint Martins and that decision was a pivotal step towards altering my career path. I had always seen myself ending up somewhere like the United Nations, but ever since my mother passed away, I suppose that I realized that I have nothing much to loose.So into the art world I dove. Presently I manage some artists at an international award winning pop-up gallery space and creative agency in Lagos. For the most part I have taught myself through incessant gallery visits, books,documentaries, chatting with gallerists and curators and ultimately shadowing the curation of live acts for West Africa’s first international art festival.I continue to learn everyday.

I miss London so. But more than I miss London, I trust life and God. I  hope to be back permanently in an unknown near future, when I’m wiser, smarter and have taken away whatever is at the cusp of this present time.

I’m surprised by some of the things I am still navigating my way around. Earlier this year I reached the mental space to end an emotional relationship that was detrimental to my well being. It still baffles me how words can bear so little weight,as much as you want to believe they are more than lifeless utterances. Maya Angelou was certainly right when she said ‘when people show you who they are,believe them‘. In addition, I watched a friendship wilt away with a lot of sadness,but also a lot of understanding,that you cannot hold people up to a standard they continue to fail to live up to, despite repeated promises.

I read some fantastic books towards the end of 2016 . My favorites were  Emma Cline’s The Girls, Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me and Trevor Noah’s Born A Crime.

So that’s where I am presently. Attempting to immerse myself in work, possibly navigating my personal life better(I hope!) and longing for next month’s visit to London and then Vegas! Until then, here are some pictures from my time in South Africa a couple of weeks ago.

oh! I forgot to say one more thing.

I’m really happy to be writing here again 🙂




There is something to be said about wearing your sister’s breton shirt with an old grey skirt and maroon Vara Farragamos,found in Paris almost 3 years ago .

There is something to be said about freshly baked sourdough bread,slathered with a generous helping of buerre président and accompanied by a spicy tomato and bell pepper soup.

There is something to be said about a  window fly,bright light streaming in,while watching a barbecue supper being set up in the middle of the garden.

There is something to be said about the splendour of roses.

There is a lot to be said about summer.

a dandelion

“I’m just a replaceable natural phenomenon,like the water in the river that flows under the bridge towards the sea”– Haruki Murakami

Over the weekend I read Haruki Murakami’s memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running-which definitely sits at the top of my impressionable list of the year ( alongside The Goldfinch, James Bladwin’s Giovanni’s Room and Books and Cigarettes by George Orwell).I firmly believe that in the modern literary world,Murakami’s imagination is unrivalled and reading about the confluence between his running and writing was a wise perspective on how the things that we spend our time doing,intersect more naturally than we are conscious of.

Wrapping up the last pages in the wee hours of the morning,I silently vowed to make my distance walking more ambitious.I intend to swim more in open waters and start a garden when I’m more settled in a few months.I want to reach that junction where variants harmonise every single day.I do believe that this is how creativity and fulfilment come about.

Ease in


I thought that sharing some  leftover pictures of nature around  Venice Beach, Los Angeles, would help me get back into the swing of blogging.

When I left London for Lagos, for my mummy’s funeral amongst other things, I believed that I would be in no mood to take pictures for a long time and so I left my camera behind.But I have now realized that in life we must go on, sometimes a lot sooner that we initially anticipated.

I miss  holding my camera and most especially the close relationhip I  have developed with nature(a lot harder to keep up in terribly hot and rowdy Lagos). I miss roadtrips, I miss my mummy most of all, but life keeps birthing new days and I must not turn my face away, but indulge in them.


Holland Park (flora)


Nevermind that it is quite an ungodly hour(we went dancing at The Welly tonight..),sleep hasn’t knocked on my door yet. Instead, I’m eating chocolate,swapping messages with an ‘ awkward Italian psychiatrist gentleman'(it feels inaccurate to describe him without all four words apostrophized)and sharing some pictures of beautiful flora from Holland Park.The first picture is my most favourite of all flora observed. It is my opinion that the stamen look quite like blackberries.