Azuka Muoh writes: “One Friday morning in March 2021, I was thinking of belief. Does it come in pairs, like white rice and stew, or alone, like sugarcane? Does it exist independently, or must it be tied to another belief that was tied to another belief before it?”
“Then I thought about trauma. I thought about the nasty fall I had that caused my skull to crack on our parlour tiles when I was five, and how I now always look down when I am walking, so I don’t slip and fall again. Trauma arouses carefulness or abandons, whichever the soul and mind choose.”
“After the trauma, I thought about time. It does not heal, it dulls or amplifies. It does not erase, it decreases opacity or increases saturation. Time is polyester, not silk. Time is morning breath or toothpaste, whichever the soul and mind choose.”
“And so if the soul and mind decide what time is, who are we, my friends, to say six years later is too soon? To say that tomorrow is too sudden, that now is too late?”