Dear Diary,
Today, Lagos paused for me. Or maybe I paused for Lagos. On my way back from the office (Academy's Classes have started), I climbed the bridge at Ketu, and while there, suspended between the smog and the sky, I watched the city exhale. You know, I am not sure while I climbed the bridge at all, perhaps I was seeking a higher vantage point to see the city, or maybe it was a higher vantage point for my thoughts... that I somehow sought...
Either way, I couldn't help but be drawn to the ceaseless flow of traffic below me - a swirling mosaic of honking cars, mobile shops, and a thousand and one human stories intersecting in the chaos and beauty that is Lagos traffic. I couldn’t tell if the sky was hinting at rain or if the dusk was simply settling over the city. But in that ambiguous glow I felt moved. So I raised my phone and took a photo. The screen froze the chaos of honks, sweat, and ceaseless hurry into something almost peaceful, and definitely beautiful. It looked like poetry.
Image taken by me
Sadly though, when I looked at this same photo a few moments ago, it simply reminded me of the Monday rush hour traffic that awaits me tomorrow.
Chaos, distilled: a symphony of steel,
A thousand engines hum what time can’t heal.
The bridge holds its breath, the city its scars—
A portrait of madness, arranged like stars...
I must admit, dear Diary, that these past two days that I have been silent on these pages have not been entirely intentional. My absence was not due to neglect, but rather the overwhelming pull of life’s immediate demands. FundQuest Academy’s classes (referenced earlier) have now fully commenced, both physical classes and the online streams, filling my weekend with endless preparations and fervent teaching sessions. Yes, there is a certain satisfaction in imparting knowledge, in seeing the spark of curiosity in my students’ eyes, yet it also leaves me with little time for self-reflection and the comforting cadence of our diary sessions.
This weekend also brought precious moments with family. My wife and our little boy (he is four months old now) spent the weekend with me, turning an ordinary weekend into one filled with warmth, cries, dirty and clean nappies, and disarming little smiles. My boy is a marvel in his own right. Despite his tender age, there’s something remarkably mature about some of his expressions — as if an old soul dwells within that tiny, curious body.
Even now, as I sit in this quiet, empty house after they’ve returned to my in-laws’ place, I can’t help but relive some of those moments. I still can see his eager eyes, his little hands reaching out for everything in sight, and the way he instinctively directs those tiny fingers to his mouth next.
Yes, I missed being here and writing these diary sessions in the past couple of days.. But I also feel that the time spent with family, immersed in the tangible present, was more than worth the silence on these pages. For I believe there’s a richness in living those unrecorded moments — it is an experience that maybe only a few written words can fully capture.
Teaching is a dance of truths half-sold,
And writing frees the heart, of stories untold..
But his eyes, his smile, there's no act as sweet,
As the feeling that follows, when his small hands meet.. mine...
The pendulum swings; duty here, desire there,
A father’s heart, split between now and where..
We build our cages, then we rattle the chains,
And we will call it living, and let the soul explain...
Dear diary, today's events have left me feeling both reflective and resolute. The images of that chaotic, poetic traffic on the Ketu bridge, my thoughts about my absence here, and the sweet echoes of my son’s laughter, intertwine to form the tapestry of today - That life is for living, and that life will always find a way.
I had worried that my silence on these pages might mark a fading of my inner voice. Yet, I now see that the time spent away was not lost at all.
Happy Sunday Diary...
#SladenSpeaks
#IfWordsWereNudes
I can still hear above all... The singing...
Baby Shark do do do do do...
Goodnight.