I figure I am too slow these days. That I cannot read the signs. But how is one expected to read the signs with all the dust in Kampala? With all the potholes? With all the scandals? How do you know if that smile or wink is meant for good and not the calm before ruin? How should one trust the words of a Kampala girl when it comes to love?
Or perhaps I got heartbroken so well, I cannot see love within the ruins of the marketplace. Or I have many illusions about the one that I just cannot seem to find the one that measures up. Is it some kind of perfectionism syndrome, wanting to get to the utopias of love? Is it that love is something that just grows, that if they darken the big circles, then you are good to go? Is this about ‘settling’ as in ‘settling’ for less than you wanted? I argue that I want it all.
I am a romantic in this life, in the previous life and in the next.
X: @OrtegaTalks
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