Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

When you get home, stop and stare, at nothing, at everything, men crouched working, lorries full driving, birds, four being painted in green and gold, then endless arrays of cars and buses and motorcycles bustling back and forth somewhere, anywhere, like rain failing on your head. When you get home, stop and stare, then begin again, seeing life, for there is wonder here, joy here, peace that surpasses peace, ideas, time, possibilities, and people, all of them like you, for you, always, like flowers, each one, breathtaking to behold. When you get home, simply stop and stare, for there is eternity here, so take off that life, and put on the ones you see at home, where people are always ready to bear your weight, this life full of purpose, here where skies always are grey, great too for long life. Anyone away from home is like a bird away from its nest. So when you get home, get home, then stop, really stop, and stare, and see why home is as it always is…