Last dish of the year that was… 

And the soup is a mixed affair much like life. You got your meat and your fish. Your Okoro and Ogbono. And in there, do I find disillusion swimming in that liquid hope with the greed of my soul? The bitter with reason outdreamed by the short lived sweetness, conscripted into the war of hearts, I’ve tasted the best and worst of it. Yet still, the seasoning dresses up our fate, masked for the ball of confusion we perspire on. Keeping the secret hidden inside out of the pot and expositioning the plot would be one heaven of a ride out to sunrise.