Reflections & Stories

His name was Mark, as if he'd been marked by fate, to have things never quite go his way. His father had left him and his mum at a young age to be with another family, leaving him a mark of rejection, of feeling he was not good enough. His mum, who was too self-absorbed to even care about her kids wants, lived a bitter life. She had reasons to be, at least that’s what she told herself. She was mad at the world and herself for always choosing men who left her heart in pieces.

n Navigating life between survival and hope. This desolate place has the ability to wear you down, no matter how strong you are as a dreamer. At some point, everything seems pointless. What exactly am I doing, you ask yourself, where will all this creativity and intelligence take me? The hoots of the matatus are becoming more and more intolerable. To add to this, I have to fight each step of the way in order not to collide with the people walking beside me in every direction