Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

Despite the skies being grey, we drive up the street to the place where it all began. Seven of us in a white bus, driving every morning to the place where anyone can lead change. There is an ostrich dressed to blend with grass. A giant head smiling as we drive pass every day. Meat pies from Sweet Sensations always cross my mind. Three dresses too from a place rosy, pink, and blue. There are bananas and groundnuts sold by women who keep them yellow or green all next to a chorus of yellow buses and yellow bikes. A fashion school blends in with safety zone. As a man dressed in all white from head to toe stands faces a woman in all black. All across sidewalks paved in white and black. Everything here is both noisy and kind, gentle and full. But in all things, where the skies are grey there is no rain, just light drizzles that come in and out, like people, like moments ordinary.