The price seemed reasonable, location Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived Off premises. Nothing remained But self-confession. “Madam,” I warned, “I hate a wasted journey–I am African.” Silence. Silenced transmission of Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came, Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully. “HOW DARK?” . . . I had not […]
Chimamanda is at it again… One of my favorite authors has a new book out, and I cannot wait to read it. She touches on hair as a writing inspiration and, more interestingly, paints hair in all its varied forms as an independent but importantly subtle character.