Let’s talk about it
Truth is, their responses were fascinating and literally set my mind on fire. Rumour has it this year Cupid was kidnapped by militants in the Niger-Delta just one day before February the 14th. Well, last year, he was all over Nigerian airspace.
My thumbs flew in a flurry over the pad of my Nokia N-72 in a futile attempt to write a real-time draft of all their thoughts. Love is like magic. Love is likeness (to like). Love is a strong word for like. Love is a higher degree of likeness. Love is like football. Love is a magnet. Love is blind. Love is strong affection. Love is a key to the gate of happiness. Love is a poem. Love is to mortals as like is to materials. Love is expressed to something that can respond to it, experience it, reciprocate it. Well, love is a warm, fuzzy feeling.
Someone’s yarn that we think love is lust opened a kettle of rotten fish. And though you can argue that he’s not exactly grammatically correct, another guy was being brutally honest when he said in characteristic Nigerian English phraseology, ‘I don’t know what is love.’ You have no idea, do you? That he was speaking for most of us? After one secondary school chap’s failed attempt at publicly toasting my graduate friend on a dare, I grabbed the polished wooden guitar (did I tell you I was no where near Alabama?) and crooned a virtual Grammy winning soft rock song I had penned several months earlier called The Colours of Your Love.
Red and yellow, black and white.
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