The Bipolar Genius: Musings of a Moody Catholic Economist
… novels, poets, songs videos and discussions on religion, faith, fiction, emotions, economics, business, money, media, entertainment and more
Hello readers, this is post number 200, well might have reached 200 earlier but removed some posts (may do it again so will drop below 200…. hehehehe). It has taken longer than planned because initially I want to blog everyday, quickly realised that is not for me; so then it was to be when I
Presence is needed in absence when death steals away futures those left behind fill moments together with words, and touches, and silences but the mouth has no meaning only the heart speaks truth only the eyes express the words of our soul as our memories melt into puddles dripping down our faces in an oasis
Chapter 1 Emeka had lived with his mother in the rundown apartment in Surulere all his life, so he was very use to the smell. However, his cousin Chi Chi who was relocating from the village could not handle it. “Chai, how person go live ere? Abi you won kill me with dis smell. Chukwubuikem,
I was having a discussion (I say discussion and not argument because to me argument has to much of a negative connotation like you are not open to the other person’s view) on whether wants are infinite.
She was a quiet person, not because she had nothing to say but she had no one to listen to it.
