Writing Hours

  Dear diary,  It turns out l was allergic to something I put in my hair and all those late nights and early mornings were beginning to tell me that I should do an allergy test before I switch anything I use on myself. I also have to accept that my ‘fro is an ajebutter and take her out for hair spa weekends with home-made slatherings of hot oil and protein treatments. Never leaving her out of green- faced weekends in toe seperators, crown doused in reviving Shea butter and chebe oil. You have to live between your home and the hair condiment shop to make it up to her. You can no longer put her last afterall, she is purposefully called crown. See you later, diary, what an entry for an early Monday morning.  😁

 I was still feeling apprehensive but then I saw an apple almost the size of my head. I mean, it was big for an apple. I wasn’t particularly thrilled about its colour which was a dull, dark green.  But an apple it was and in my mind, Iit glistened in the light, welcoming me to the moon. I went to pick it but it smacked my hand away. “I could turn your insides to stone in a matter of minutes!” It mumbled away at an explanation. Surreal like a picture out of one of treasure troves of stories I read to my year three class just before hometime after they’d been good all day.  I will have to be pureed diluted and diluted some more before you can even smell it. Sorry but this isn’t Earth. You can’t have it all here besides it’s crippling cold outside. I felt that cold now as I glanced around the half light.