In Bowl I Stand

Is it an illusion? Have I taught my brain to?

When I think about you, I think of your capacity

I think of the capacity to satisfy my comfort levels

Your color never matters, your depth does

It does matter because when I look at you, I see a contributor to my comfort levels

I see something that has the potential of ruining a day that started all well

I see something that has the potential to worsen a cold episode

So when I look at you, you are not just a bowl, with you comes comfort and I want to get it right!

With Love from my keyboard


Now Go Get Extremely Cheesy and Hug Yourself!

Yayyyyyyyyy!!!!! Yesssssss!!!! Feel free to scream with me as I express the excitement that I am back on this passion project again!

My relationship with WordPress reminds me of that toxic relationship with an ex that you keep going back to. Or that Twitter handler who first opens their Twitter account uses it for a few days, leaves confused for a few years, then comes back as a Twitter master. Only in my case, WordPress has done me no harm. WordPress has allowed me to have a space where I can share whatever it is my curious brain wanders into. I love it.

Speaking of curious minds, how do creatives stay on track with their curious minds? My curious mind is not the type that has a specific niche, I love knitting, drawing, painting, self-portrait photography, writing, reading and beaded bag making .et cetera .et cetera. I get obsessed with one passion project for a while and then completely forget about it once I pick another interest. I forgot about this WordPress account for a year, and now I am back ready to cuddle it like I never left. And a special shoutout to my two subscribed beautiful humans that receive an email when I type on here. Thank you so so much!

I always appreciate myself when I choose to find beauty in things that attempt to bring me sadness. It is never easy but it has been helpful in allowing me to be kind to myself. When I forget my passion projects I question my entire existence because these are hobbies that bring me joy. What then will happen if my sources of joy are inconsistent? Does that mean my joy lessens? And then you know how you force sadness to consume you? I call it forcing sadness to consume you because a part of me is aware that there are other things I am currently doing that bring me joy but I choose the latter. However, one thing I pat myself on the back for is that I allow myself to feel. I allow my mind to wander, get lost, come up with 10 different projects I could do, and navigate the newness life keeps on bringing.

If you are reading this and there is a part of you that misses a part of you that used to bring you joy, that is okay. Just because you miss it does not mean you need or want it. Just because it is not there, it does not mean that you cannot find joy in the current you. Now go get extremely cheesy and hug yourself!

Dear Sugar Daddy, 079me

As I write this, I am listening to the commissioner of Lainya incompetently answer questions on why the people of Lainya are being killed by cattle herders from the Mundari community. My mum went ahead and put on her earphones as she scrolled the hell out of Facebook. Basically, he was wasting everyone’s time. But more importantly, inspired me to write on here.🤡

Recently, I studied abroad in London and let me tell you I suffered. You know why, because if I didn’t cook I wouldn’t eat. In simpler terms, I had to cater for myself. I know coming from an African, specifically South Sudanese family, the audacity to complain is abominable. Because sasa who will marry me? How will my husband survive?

Imagine, I, a whole woman fighting the patriarchy, had to cook and feed myself🌚 Wouldn’t it be easier if I had a sugar daddy? A sugar daddy with a hotel? Preferably the hotels which charge £200 for water, and £7000 for a piece of salmon placed at the corner of the plate as a meal. Sometimes when I say I fight for gender equity, I want us to fight till women have achieved equity. Then all men can leave planet earth. Each will be required to leave a couple of sperms before we wipe them all out. Damn, that was dark.

I love how this man aroused my writing juices. Anyways, as I write, we heard 5 gunshots. Immediately, a couple of people stood intending to run but were all asked to sit down. Guess they couldn’t stand the commissioner’s bullshit too.

Back to the basics, If being a sugar baby is a way of sourcing for income, why don’t we get it off the moral policing hook? Couples should comfortably lie in bed and help their wives/girlfriends/sisters source clients for the next day.🌚

Although that’s easy to say, I do not believe it’s for everyone. You cannot quantify the emotional commitment of such a transactional relationship. Or at least most of us tend to think it’s purely transactional. Even the “fuck love, I’m getting paper” mates can agree that there comes a point our emotions choose how they want to be. I am not saying you can quantify emotional commitments in other relationships. While getting into a sugar-baby relationship most people assume they’ll be no emotions involved. But the real question is, can we morally justify the sugar daddy/baby relationship? Should we?

But again, all I want is a husband who will give birth to my six children, cook for me, wash for me, spread my bed and then, RIP my punany in the night till death do us part.

Feel free to leave your comments down below.

With Love from my keyboard.

On Death and Dying

Baba God na your handwork eh
No be lie
Na your handwork eh
I say
E no
easy eh (oh oh oh oh)
to dey sing and dey dance and the people de rejoice ye ehhhhhhh ( scream with me please because P square is immaculate vibes)

My inspiration to write about death is from a conversation I had with a friend, buss down Chenems. I do not mean the death that you mention after seeing something very funny, “I’m deadddd” or that guy “killeddd me”. I am talking the permanent ending of someone’s life, eyes shut.

The question was, if we know death is inevitable why haven’t we found a way to curb some of its pain and how it affects us? We have almost figured out ways to deal with other forms of pain, but death is where we draw the line? We have conferences to address philosophy and meaning in life but not death? Because I believe, I am willing to have more conversations about death and its impacts in my life. Death has no guest list, it does not choose, it is for everybody.

Last year, I lost one of my close family members. And I do not how I feel about that whole incident. I do not know what I feel. It is a year now; she has not been lying on the bed she constantly laid on. Her body form had been kind enough to leave an indent on the mattress. The mattress is gone but the space is still there. I am sure I will not be able to feel her again but that is all. But look, who will I go ask these questions? who will I talk to? how will I heal if it is not a wound yet? when will it be a wound?

This mystery took me on to Zuckerberg’s blessing (Google). Of course, I searched how to write about death because sensitivity is subjective. Then I searched the meaning of death. Did you guess that the first search was all about how to make people cry when reading/watching a death scene? Yes, that was quite popular. Then the second search led me to different philosophical chains with the usual findings. “The mystery of death is part of the enigma of the soul and of life itself; understanding death really means understanding life.”, but why are all conversations about life more than death? Is it not a balance?

I am not comfortable with the phrase “sorry for your loss” because which part of my loss are you sorry about? and why are you sorry about it? They are in a better place now? what place? what makes you think so? They might be out there dancing with the devil or Abraham the father of all, we never know. There are very many painful things we go through in life that are unusual. childbirth, menopause, period pains, accidents, post-partum depression, name it all. We are figuring out ways we could approach dealing with this but what about death?

You know, I usually say the only thing I hate about death is that it takes that person away for good. Wena (Yes, I have been obsessed with RHOJ off late, I need my South African passport) I cannot even fly, jump, walk to come and feel somebody. We find ways to explain to kids which they swallow. *yes, I understand* But are you sure that is a better place she is at? thank you, but what are we sorry for?

I do not know what I am trying to conclude. The conservation with my friend never ended, it just diverted. Do you see what I mean?

I believe when people die, they decompose. I do not engage with the spirituals; I do not want to believe that they are watching over me. Because my will has no ability to engage with what has potential to be demonic. However, if those bones could speak would they miss us? who is getting to decide whether death becomes a usual conversation?

Feel free to leave your thoughts. Comment, email, Dm. Let us talk!

With Love from my Keyboard. 




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If my book could talk

So, I am lying down on this piece of blanket under the perfect shade. That shade that hits the right body parts while still allowing the sun to soak me up. Beneath are these beautiful blades of grass, looking lush (in Siannise’s {{Love Island}} accent) so green you’d extract an amazing natural dark light green hair dye from it. Next to me, is a regular fine black printed hardcover book. It is beside me waiting to be salivated on as I focus on the lush grass. Flipping its pages is an act of serenity. At this point, I have already read one sentence. I repeat a part of that sentence six times before realizing I have gone over that part six times, so I go back and read the sentence again so I can go on and read the rest. Then I realize I do not know what these combination of letters are trying to tell me. I stare into the abyss for a hot minute.

It goes like this:

I talked with one of them, and she was bored with yachts and bored with flying around in aeroplanes and bored with skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil. skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil. skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil. skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil. skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil. skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil. skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil. I talked with one of them, and she was bored with yachts and bored with flying around in aeroplanes and bored with skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil.Excerpt from the Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath

A breeze hits me, and suddenly my hand feels this piece of paper beneath it calling out. I quickly go back to the sentence I left. You know the usual, let me start where I left it at. I interestingly read that last sentence heartily then move on to the next. I repeat that sentence, aloud this time, just to connect it to the previous one. Then I proudly (subconsciously or consciously who knows) repeat the last part of it seven times.

I talked with one of them, and she was bored with yachts and bored with flying around in aeroplanes and bored with skiing in Switzerland at Christmas and bored with the men in Brazil.Girls like that make me sick. make me sick. make me sick. make me sick. make me sick. make me sick. make me sick. make me sick.Excerpt from The Bell Jar, by Sylvia Plath

“Are we going to get to a third sentence today?” , the book mumbles. I stop, fold the top of that page we will pick it up “tomorrow”. I gently give that fine ass print a break. No, I don’t go back and stare at the lush green around.

With Love from my keyboard!

Versatility of the Kink

4A, 4B, 4C,…….4D, there’s definitely one that hasn’t been discovered yet, thought I’d hint at a scientist. Do you ever come from the salon with a fresh box braided juicy head then you see cuteeee faux locs and want that on. Then you see a combed out glistening Afro and all of a sudden unasikia tu kubomoa nywele? (you feel like undoing your hair) That’s me with my bald head🤧

I’ve failed to understand that indecisiveness with hairstyle choices. It’s this versatility of kinky hair. I mean if you can do 30 different hairstyles in a month? Why not? Hairline worries? Barbers and wigs exist😌 Sometimes the process goes like this, you scroll through different YouTube hair tutorials, pinterest, Instagram basically wherever you fancy. Then you pick out a hair style inspiration and a braid colour too then something else ends up on your head. Not that you changed your mind but you already forgot the first one you admired.

Yesterday (well, the day before I wrote this) I woke up, fixed up my $18 wig. Wore my red headscarf, watched Kiitana’s head-wrap tutorial on YouTube and rocked that shit. For a minuteee, I thought about getting my hair back so I can have extraordinary faux locs, wrap it up and all of that. And then the thought of that volume on my head just gave me chills. I know sometimes you want to wear it for that one day, so you decide you might as well not do it if you are not feeling that strong about having it. If the feeling is not that strong, then its not time yet.

And even better, gone are the days that you should believe certain colours will not look good on you. I believe as long as you are beautiful any color will look good on you. There is always that person who’ll call you a highlighter or a HB pencil (image at the bottom) but guess what? highlighters look so good not just on paper but in front of their own mirrors too♥️ so yesss do it all! Wreck it up! Explore all the options and when you get back to square one? Repeat repeat repeat *malizia with Ambulance*

They say too many choices is not a good thing sometimes, I say many choices is always a good thing with kinky hair. Stay bold and occupy that space!

HB Pencil: is what they used to call a dark skin girl with maroon hair, this was around 2014.

It is a red and black oencil

Your Body, Your Home

🎶🎶Abortion is a crime it is a crime it is a crime is a crime abortion is a crime. It is a crime it is a crime is a crime abortion is a crime. It is a crime it is a crime is a crime abortion is a crime🎶🎶 I remember singing along to this tune passionately when I was a child. If you are not familiar with this Nthsenge reggae tune then I don’t know what kind of songs your radio stations air. Anyways, when I was a kid I did not think of the context, I promise you I did not know what abortion meant, the only crime I knew was probably theft because of how prevalent mob justice was then. I can’t quote myself. I will not be discussing the politics of its morality, I will be talking about the female body.

According to the Harvard Health Publishing, abortion is the removal of pregnancy tissue, products of conception or the fetus and placenta (afterbirth) from the uterus. As I continue reading what it is used for, it talks about abortion being used to end unplanned pregnancies, when the fetus is abnormal and the mother’s health is at risk. I don’t know about you but my awareness on abortion was on the news about a fetus being found in Nairobi CBD streets in the morning, tied in a plastic bag. Or my friends telling me stories about their friends who have had to abort because either the condom broke or their Plan B did not work. What I find fascinating about this was that I never connected it to the body, the wellness of the female body.

And this reminded me of other natural body processes that we (females) go through and others that we put ourselves through (this we have our personal reasons to). You know things like periods, I get very angry at my cramps having the audacity to do my body such a disservice. Mind you, at that point I cannot explain what is really going on, I cannot break it down why shedding causes cramps. I get mad at myself because I cannot explain what is going on in my body yet I could know. But this one, this one! Oh sweet one that I put myself through, angers me more because why did I put myself through what I haven’t learn yet. And that one is birth control, friends! Where I grew up, Kenya, I was not exposed to contraceptives at all,well, sex either. But my point is, all I knew was that there is a pill that could help you avoid pregnancies. I had no idea about shots, insertions or patches until I started watching a show called MTV Shuga (shameless plug: If you haven’t watched it come on all episodes are on Youtube, enjoy!) Also, please have in mind that as much as the purpose of birth control is to prevent pregnancy, many women use it for health advantages like regulating their periods, reducing acne and lowering pain caused by endometriosis.

But this one, this one! Oh sweet one that I chose to be in contact with, yet I haven’t learnt enough about. And that is birth control my friends!

Brief intro on contraceptives: they serve the purpose of preventing pregnancy. They come in different forms and have very different effects on the female body. Everyone’s effects vary, I believe it cannot be entirely the same for every woman. I remember when I wanted to start using contraceptives, I was wondering what my mum will have to say about her unmarried daughter using a drug that implies she is having sex (not really the case but if you know you know). Now, I am more concerned about learning the scientific processes that are going on in my own goddamn body. I want to learn the nitty-gritty of how the contraceptive interacts with my body to cause the different effects. I did some research and I am hoping it will feed a person’s curiosity, inform or motivate them to go and know about their insides.

I have chosen to speak about the Depo Shot because that is what I am familiar with. Depo Provera is a contraceptive that is given by injection every 3 months. It contains a progesterone hormone. Its common side effects are spotting/bleeding. weight gain, no more periods and bone loss. I was able to talk to an obstetrician/gynaecologist in order to understand how this contraceptive interacts with the body scientifically. I will be breaking this down in brief parts so the information is easy to carry with and not boring.

Bleeding: The reason for bleeding is because depo provera is a progesterone which keeps the lining of the uterus thin. When the lining is thin, it can bleed automatically. When this happens, the blood can irritate the uterus which causes cramping. Why is it that this irritation causes cramping? There isn’t a clear mechanism, however, when blood accumulates in the uterus from breakthrough bleeding the uterine walls do not like to be expanded and so they start to contract. This can happen when you put anything in the uterus, like an instrument during a gyn procedure or an IUD. How is it then that it can prevent periods yet subject the patient to bleeding? Make it Make sense! It prevents periods because it prevents the hypothalamus from stimulating the ovaries to ovulate. Progesterone also causes a thin lining on the uterus and over time it causes bleeding and spotting because it is more fragile than a thick lining during a normal menstrual cycle.

Acne: Common in other forms of contraceptives too. The provera restricts the gonadotropins which are secreted by the brain to grow a follicle which leads to low estrogen levels. When estrogen is low, sex hormone binding protein will go down, which causes your free androgens to be elevated and can cause acne. In women androgens are produced in the ovary and adrenal glands. They stimulate the sebaceous glands to produce sebum (oil) which can clog pores and cause bacteria to grow, thus causing acne.

Regaining of fertility: After stopping the shot, it could take up to a year to regain fertility. The depo provera prevents the hypothalamus from stimulating the ovaries. After it wears off, it takes time for the prevention to wear off and to start stimulating the ovaries again so that you can ovulate.

Depression and weight gain: Depression is a complex disorder so there is no specific explanation. Progesterone increases appetite so that could increase weight but not everybody gains weight from the shot.

All in all, take care of your body. Your soul might not be willing but that shit is not physical, so when you are going down it could easily evaporate elsewhere. Know what is going on in your body when you can. Be kind to yourself, your body and its physical needs. Have these conversations: talk to your closest friend: another friend. Ask each other these questions. Ladies, carefully think about the reasons you choose to go on birth control, if it is for sexual pleasure talk to your partner. Not that they deserve this information but you deserve to make him aware. Make sure both of you fully understand its interactions with your body and its impacts. If it is for medical purposes, educate yourself on why your body needs that hormone regulation. Own your choices!

Attached are fun quotes I found on the internet on birth control.

One of my favorite moments is when a guy, at that certain point in a relationship, says something desperately hopeful like, ‘Are you on the pill?’ I simply say, ‘No, are you?Roxanne Gay

Patriarchy is women structuring lifelong decisions around men they haven’t met.Maggie Young

“Aren’t you on the pill?” he demands.

“No,” I say, feeling more pissed off with every passing second. “Are you?”Katy Regenery

30 years, where have you been?

Gossip with my mum is the sweetest gossip, no lie. Soooo one time I’m on the call with her and she says, “sasa mtu akikuletea maua unafanyia nini? si anipee hio pesa kwa bahasha, mi nitafurahia” and I felt that at heart because flowers? no tnx! Because I have honestly failed to get excited at the thought of having a flower as a gift. Is it the smell? because so many things smell like flowers right now, even better summer brings us varieties. If it’s the act? then niwekee hio pesa kwa bahasha tu.

In other news, I always say I will not be comfortable meeting a potential life partner at 30 because, where were you for the other 29 years of your life? doing what? who? why? where? I just cannot *insert Elsa Majimbo’s voice* And when I say this I do not mean their love life, I mean there existence in general. I know there are people who are put in such circumstances or they picked to have that, but my gut will not let me rest. Because my gut feeling is so strong such that, if I am doing something and I had prior doubts it will keep on knocking. And no, I don’t think growing with somebody is the only best option, I’m just wondering 30 years? Humans will always be humans and there is nothing wrong with that. Furthermore, this is me saying it now who knows what tomorrow holds? No one.

In other news, allow me to talk about adult children. Yes, adult children because some children are adults out there. I don’t know how some children came to embody some personalities, I have failed to understand because I dislike it. There are these children who talk back at you like they are not already struggling to level with you (literally). They can’t even write what they just told you. You know those times when you have to be the bigger one yet the child is insulting you like the bigger one 😂😂😂 , as in where does the attitude come from little being?

Let me emphasize that, after God I fear kids because their honesty could cause as much harm as a brutally honest adult.

Most of these posts will be very short because long humor and writing is a service paid for, it’s whom they call stand up comedians and authors respectively.

(sikeee I might also just have nothing to say)

With Love from my keyboard.

The Trip to Dar es Salaam

I remember

I remember crying asking the Uber driver at 5:40 pm, “My flight is at 6:40 pm, do you think I’ll make it ?”. “Mmmm, an hour? Let’s see!” he hesitantly answered. That’s when it was confirmed I’d missed that flight. A huge gulp of “I told you so” made its way through my throat as he slowly turned towards the main Mwiki road, of course, he kept on driving.

So, I had been waiting for the longest time to make this trip. I had promised nothing would get in between my plans, not even my strict parents. I had saved up money. I was entirely sure this was going to be the best thing about my summer break. And you know things they say we do for love? I couldn’t relate to that the same time last year haha. Here I was trying to do those things “they” say we do for love.

The Uber driver turned towards the main road, right on, Nairobi traffuck was already on our case. Friends, Patrick was not even trying to speed up, you know as in I am not asking for some speed racing type of fast but “look like you’re trying to use your car fuel type of fast”. I texted my elder sister (who is always in the know of all my mischievous endeavours), I might even miss this flight, this guy doesn’t look like he’s in a rush and amechelewa (late).” I hadn’t even checked in online. Suddenly, his tire had some sort of issue. He had to make a stop at the petrol station because he needed to get air pumped in it. Guys, you know that moment umeloose hope hadi huwezi jam (you’ve lost you are unable to get angry), well that was my moment.

On the whole, ride headed towards Mombasa road, I kept on swearing I’d take a boda (motorbike) the next minute. Finally, I swore to take a boda when it gets to 6 if we were not at the airport entrance yet. How I expected that to happen, I cannot explain. Mercy sends me her blessings, “Nice then, tell me when you’re almost taking off then, you got this.” At the moment, that didn’t make sense. Patrick knew my situation and didn’t seem to want to help cause he wasn’t even driving, you know. At that same time, I was trying to check-in online to give myself some sense of false hope but when I tried clicking on that window seat the “check-in closed” filled my screen.

“Bro, I’m sorry. How much time do you have left?” Mercy asked. “None, I think I’ll just miss it and ask if they can put me on a morning one,” I responded. Guys, this is the juicy part! My mum had zero ideas that I was not coming home that night yet, so going back home with a packed bag was not an option yet. In two minutes, it went from I think the physical check-in is closed to I give up to check-in closes in 30 minutes and I only have 6 minutes and I am nowhere close, I actually give up. As I panicked, Patrick was quite silent, he was probably trying to avoid triggering any emotion that would cause rage (well it could never get there but I love to think I can ever get that angry haha). I shuffled through my documents; they seemed to like my closest consolation at that point haha.

Traffuck was still laughing at my trial, I got ready to ask Patrick to just turn back. All of a sudden I remembered, I could just call the airline front desk. All of a sudden, Patrick seemed to be in agreement with this decision too. Of course, they did not pick up the first call. On the second trial, Mary picked up and asked how far I was and Patrick said 10 minutes away. Mary responded I’m sorry Grace you won’t make it. “What? I won’t?” I repeated after her because Patrick had to be in the know. He asked what about 5 minutes? I asked Mary what about 5? I can literally see the aeroplanes already. She seemed sympathetic and promised to give me a call back in a few minutes, it must have been the distraught in my voice. Wallahi, I had no difference with a kuku imenyeshewa. (washed up)

Two minutes later, I was at gate security and I almost seemed to have made it. In Nairobi, before driving in, all passengers have to get down and go through security search. Only the driver is left in the car. Somehow, I escaped this (no more details). We headed towards Terminal 1A, both of us had smiles on our faces. Thank God, Mary got back to me right as I got down and I assured her I was right outside. “Mbona sikuoni ukikimbia? (why don’t I see you running) she responded. At that point, Patrick had the most genuine smile as he wished me a safe journey. I ran into an agitated waiting flight attendant who hurriedly gave me my boarding pass. I rushed through the security checks with no shoes, until I got to the tarmacked part.

I was met by a whole aircraft of people who had waited for this one girl to get her sh*t together. They probably thought I was a grown adult who could not manage to miss her business meeting that night, shock. I did not even look at anyone, I did not need to to see how angry they felt. I thankfully put my luggage under the seat, took off my jacket and texted Mercy. Made it, Nahema kaa mbwa (panting like a dog), yaani I was running. “Yesssss got that cardio in Mami, text me when you land,” she responded. I was very excited I had made the flight and I deserved this excitement.

I landed and my first phone call was to my mum, letting her know that I was out of the city for a whole weekend (no, it was not as easy as I am writing it haha). How that ended could be a whole novel haha. All I could promise you though is that that weekend was very perfect.

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Intro: Banter Kidogo


Hashtag, I was just guessing hashtags randomly (don’t look for a pattern). My brain is a mystery I have failed to fathom, please bear with I. If you’ve read this far without clicking back I appreciate you haha, cause I don’t really know what I am saying next but here I go. Welcome to unreasonable reasoning, non-comprehensive sentence forming and my usage of the mighty alphabet.

I am lying over here in my bed after a longgg call session of udaku with my mother, yaani gossip (this was not today haha). Gossip with parents are always the sweetest cause it’s grown up gossip, you know. I feel as if I have made it, but to be clear I still can’t sit with her and her friends. Also, I woke up with a Ziploc bag full of Italian sausages next to me, blessed lifestyle.

No, I do not endorse anything I ever say here, neither can I confirm its sense. The internet has a lot to offer, and I…I…I…just pure banter. 97% of my life when I am not in a class, I am spending 2% of it being myself and then I believe I am a decent writer and put in on here… I make myself laugh a lot, yaani I love to think I am really funny lakini mi huogopa criticisms. You know people who are always waiting for that moment they will start reminding you how your knowstrils are always knowing, your eyes are shaped like they can’t see, oh your brain is small that’s why you forget quickly. So on and so forth…

On the brighter side, this page serves a purpose or none at all because I wanted a place I would verbalize (no I don’t lack other spaces I am just exhausting them all), probably you too. I just want to spread everything, laugh and love.
I apologize if some things aren’t funny, I will kindly request you consult with your humor.

With Love from my Keyboard.