Have you ever heard of a uni-sexual face? Those ones that look good no matter the gender. Like you’re a guy, a cute one and you’d still look good as a girl with the same face? I see one every now and then – a very rare and beautiful thing.

Or maybe you’ve experienced one of those moments – the ones that strike you and make you think “I want to remember this. Just like this. Perfection in mortal form” They make you wish you had a polaroid in your eyes because no man made lens can do justice to the scene you behold but those are the memories that fade the soonest so you helplessly watch it slip away.

Like the lyrics to an old song you almost remember, you swear you could touch it. You can hear it in your ears, taste the words on your tongue but then it’s gone, gently blowing past you like a light breeze at midnight.

Or you could be having one of those nights when you feel cool, the breeze is calm and soothing, nothing can faze you. A guy acting goofy almost bumps into you but you don’t miss a beat. Yup you’re on a roll. Nothing’s gonna get you down. Then you pass by this suya spot and the man grabs your hand for no reason. And you have to fight yourself not to punch him in the face – so you’re a psycho.

It could be though that you think you’re DaVinci or something. You want to create a design so exotic, so magnificent and you have this beautiful complex imagery you envisioned in your head. Then you pick up a pencil and it comes out all wrong , like a really messed up scrawl and you don’t know yourself anymore.

Or sometimes you want the perfect picture. You see it. the angle, the lightning, and you posing in all your edited glory but your amateurish photographer (your sister or mum) just doesn’t get it. So you wish you could split the roles of model and photographer supreme – perfection. Unfortunately, selfies can only do so much. They don’t count.

Other times I wonder about all these short lived university dalliances that never seem to go anywhere. They never end well too though they can be quite exciting to follow. Who is going around with who this week, said who having gone around with a different who three weeks ago. Teenagers seem to have the attention span of a butterfly, fluttering from flower to more exciting flower.

Or maybe you find something easy and others complain about it and you feel like Superman. Like when you finish an exam early and you look around and behold a sea of young heads bent over half full papers but you wouldn’t want to feel too fly, just in case you crash and burn in your own flames of glory, so you maintain. It’s nothing.

I do find it amazing though how everybody can walk around with so much pain concealed. Like you see a woman walking down the street and you wonder what’s in her head, her heart, her mind. She could have gotten her heart broken, walking around with the carefully hidden pieces, a small smile to mask it nicely.

You wonder how the whole world runs so well, like a busy loom with a master weaver; each person with his own thread. Sometimes running out halfway, sometimes going on till eternity and other times so beautifully locking with another to create a wonderful pattern. It’s almost magical.

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