sleeping on a friend’s bedroom floor,  I realise now how much I don’t like Kilifi. this was to be the town of my youth, where i came to be ‘away’. my significant place.a place of refuge. this was where I learnt the love of an older woman. i don’t like Kilifi anymore. I don’t like Nyali either. the sea, whether or not it has a memory, can go fuck itself. if I ever like another place, let it be as far away from the sea as possible. the fact that I have to always perform certain roles here makes me go crazy. but where in the world is a safe place? friends who used to offer those spaces now demand for things in return. i hope to offer all my friends a safe place, & i hope I’ll never ask for anything in return. i denounce all places. i curse geography and cartography. how can a place escape you this way, that the blue green of Mnarani does nothing for me anymore? the bridge. the people. the corner where i bought my Adidas?  


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