Ben Okri

There’s wisdom in repetition, in going to the same place often, seeing the same painting again and again, re-reading a much loved book.’

‘Most people would say repetition is boring.’

‘The young maybe.’

Do you know what the luckiest thing is?

No.

It is to be at home everywhere.

But Omovo knew otherwise; he saw beneath the dignity, the fine clothes, and the feathered hat to the bright crack within and a threatening void

‘I’m happy for you. You have your art. I don’t have anything. Except, maybe, you.’

‘I’m happy for you. You have your art. I don’t have anything. Except, maybe, you.’

‘I’m happy for you. You have your art. I don’t have anything. Except, maybe, you.’

he recalled something else he had innocently witnessed.

the man was having another bout of insomnia.

See how Africa kills her young ones…

he remembered many things: his mother dying while his father ran after other women, his brothers thrown out when they questioned him about the aimlessness of their lives. His father stopped pacing and brought up a fresh complaint about how useless all his children were and how unmerciful God had been to him in this respect. He said it with a sad passionate conviction. And over every one of his actions was that impression of acting out a feverish mania.