“Are we to speak of these flowers as a symbol of love?”

Photo by Sidney Pearce on Unsplash

Saturday night can be a little different from other nights. It was a night after Friday; the last day of the working week. A night before Sunday; the day to attend Church, stay after service, prepare for the coming days. It could be a night to relax, de-stress, catch up with a few things, do something or do nothing.

For me, it was a night to block out everything and enjoy myself. My back on my bed with my eyes closed, listening to music without any bother was…


There it was, right in front of our eyes, the ocean. Just two more steps, and we would be in it, feeling its history, embracing its story. We were all silent. No one could whisper a word, no one could utter a sound. We never believed we would ever experience this dream of ours. And yet, here we were, unable to utter anything.

It took a moment before someone spoke out. It was Sarah, the always silent and observant one among us. “It feels like a dream,” she said almost inaudible. …

Oluwaseun Akinola

A writer that writes for the pleasure of writing

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