One afternoon, I found a note under my door. Scribbled in pencil on torn paper. No name. Just the words: You cannot lie to a city that knows your footsteps.

Your sight isn't playing tricks, 

I really do want to. 

What she felt was well deserved guilt, guilt for the years she treated her sister like a burden, guilt from the fact that her sister was always having a faceoff with death while she was living her best life.

When people see this on the news, they feel sorry that this is the place I call home.

but look at the sky! how it 

spreads! a thing in vastness

While earlier writers used themes of culture and tradition, the more contemporary Nigerian literature has expanded impressively and now draws from the realities of the country’s social processes, from women’s rights and feminism to post-war and post-colonial identity.

I went to my Grandma Mamie’s every summer, sometimes even during the year, but this was the first time Roosevelt had visited me.