119. The World Sees MeNova

Buruburu felt different when we came back; louder, brighter, too awake.

Maybe the matatus weren’t honking louder than usual.

Maybe the street vendors weren’t shouting any differently.

Maybe the neighbours weren’t suddenly more energetic.

Maybe it was just me.

Maybe I was carrying New York inside my chest like a stone, heavy, cold and lodged somewhere beneath my ribs.

Two days had passed since the incident at the award ceremony. Two days since I had barely ...