The puddle in Bangsar
Bukit Bintang at night is a fever dream of neon lights, the smell of diesel and satay, and the constant hum of people who don't know where they are going but are determined to get there.
Every story in one place, newest first.
Bukit Bintang at night is a fever dream of neon lights, the smell of diesel and satay, and the constant hum of people who don't know where they are going but are determined to get there.
There is a geometry to Nairobi mornings that nobody talks about. The matatu routes form a web across the city.
There are things you can only say over meat. This is about those.
Turning forty far from home. Still not brief.