Ijeoma Umebinyuo, From Questions For Ada

Golden

Vincent Van Gogh // John Keats

I live for evening drives with my dad.

First, parts of you die, and then the things you think define you fade into the background. But you're still in control, you didn't need them anyway. Then you wake up one October morning, and you're seeping through your own fingers like water. You have no idea whom you are, you only have a vague idea of whom you want to be, but that's hard and you need to grieve for the girl who's dying inside you, because God knows she's carried you. Alas, you live in a world full of people with questions and they feel entitled to you remaining the same. You can't explain that your paradigms are not just shifting, they're blowing up and turning into ash in your hands, so you just fold into yourself. But Yourself is falling apart, and it's just...living God what is happening?

All these men friends that are good, but not good to me.

Not to get controversial or anything but can we stop with making fun of women being abused by their husbands and playing it off as ‘straight culture’

A winner knows when to stop

On the screen near Debonairs in Montecasino, Johannesburg

You can get changed now. Take your time. Gosh. The shirt is too big.