Unsaddled wishes: Amanda POV

After eating dinner–a huge cake of moi-moi i found in the fridge (Aunty seedy drove by when i wasn't in) and watching two episodes of MTV's Shuga Naija, i'm sprawled on the fur rug spread at the epicentre on the sitting room, looking through old albums on my phone.

There's the picture of Lorita and i, at a Queens Christmas party, she has an over-sized santa cap on and a  we are grinning like cheshire cats. And there's another, it was at a Bole festival, where got each others names painted on our faces, hers in gold lettering, mine in black. 

It only made sense, my skin is a light brown, so weightless it could be called yellow, and hers, so dark that at some point she jokingly started to call herself "Blackie". We were each others ying and yang, and if data and video calls prevail, we always will be.

But i'm not placing my bet on video calls or any network service, because if you have lived my life you'll know that people die, and people leave a