Death is coming for us all. This song and dance we call life is fleeting, and the curtain could close on any of us at any time.
This is the thought train that leaves my mental station whenever I find myself seated between four or more wheels here in Africa.
Africa is what my Nana might’ve called fuller figured, and what I’d call fucking massive. The fact that I want to see a lot of it necessitates a lot of transportation, and this transportation is what my Nana might’ve called interesting, and what I’d call fucking horrifying.