Home Away from Home

I never thought I could write for day 3 in the ongoing 22 days of consistent writing challenge because it is a political moment in Nigeria. the heat of the moment will not allow me to do other things save office work. How do I write, how do I think, when the alignment and realignment of candidates are not likely favoring the candidate I love to see win the primary elections of the All Progressive Congress.

But then, I remember while inputting my details in participation in this challenge, I wrote "I hope to write throughout the challenge".

This is me doing that!

Today, I am going to be talking about politics, most of my discussions most times center on the same, Why, Politics is the mode through which we are structured, it is the addition of our intelligence and ideas to a better world.

Politics is the tool through which we can measure if we will grow or diminish as a person, state, or nation. Then I ask, why are we not participating in it?

In the lessons of from-cradle-telling African stories, we get to understand that most of the moonlight stories being told while we were growing up were to teach us leadership, politics, and growth. This is not common in our modern-day society, owing to the increase in petty structures which have been modified to look like reality.

We were taken aback, by the reality of home, when shall I see my home? Yet, we could not ascertain where the real home was, or is. But the home, to religious persons, is Heaven or Hell, to some who do not believe in the two, speculates Mother Earth is the home. Where is Home, the writer asks?

Home for me was the river bank, As a person who loves swimming, I love to see water flow, touch me, and for use due to its health benefits. I recall, in early 2000, I was 5, I do go on pants, to bath in the rain, and on the open balcony, if I see water volume formed, I dip in to swim. It was natural and lovely, upon seeing the other gender coming, I will hide my John Thomas [You may wish to ask what is John Thomas]. To date, I take pleasure in the water, be it droplets or a whole.

Water never satisfy my thirst for an abode, I then took pleasure in trees, shade, and shrubs. Most of my inspired writings are done while sitting under a tree, or in a garden. I doubt if this was based on my career profession 'Architecture'. 

Where is my home, the writer asks? 

My home became natural resources, the smell of the opposite gender, the gracious light in songs -theme songs, traditional music, and African beats. My home is earth, and I long to be on my way home, I am standing at home.

A home is a place where we are safe. I am home away from home.

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