I was wading through my emails this morning and I came across this article I had sent in for a competition when I was 19. I did not get in – I don’t even think they got back to me. I had obviously scared the crap out of them with my gazillion (brackets) and DPMO attitude. LMAO. I have copied and pasted it below and haven’t touched a single thing.
…Or A Feminist Manifesto In Fifteen Suggestions. Author: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie I know… I know, I’m letting on that I am in fact jobless, by doing such constant book reviews. Or am I jobless? Hmm…. I finished ‘Dear Ijeawele’, my first book in October within minutes. It’s a little book consisting of 53 pages and a rather flow-y message such that you can’t really pause to read later.
You’re reading this in the voice of a flower. Do not panic. Or think you’re weird. Flowers are also living things. I sit here in a vase, serving as a centre piece on a table in a semi-fancy restaurant. On this beautiful evening, I have chosen not to think of all my worries; like the fact that I shall die this night when all the guests leave and would be