Sometimes in our lives, it behoves us to know the barrier, which stands in the way of our progress is not always there in our stars but in the hands of fellow men. It is important to add here, however, that it is the principle that matters and it is the wrong principled decision of my father to pawn my life into perfection, that landed me on the outlying streets of Harlem, London.
On my graduation, two months after Elizabeth, my little sister's homecoming, a Cambridge man, who I often see on the streets of kentford where I lived, cycling each lawn to the Keswick convention and sustaining himself each day with the simplest of food, was invited to give a speech. He dazzled towards the podium and spoke pugnaciously for hours, about God and grace.  He seemed to be a very rich man, but about his simplicity... I'm awed. His financial side never seemed to enter very much into his calculations. Nor his health side. He had one basic passion, which was to talk about God. I listened among thousands of funky youths present that day, or at least I thought I did, thinking of the possibility of such a desire on my part. This was twenty-two years ago and I kind of think the man saw into my future.

I've spent years grinding away at my office desk now, selling away my ideas and earning a salary appropriate for an high-school dropout. By the way, I'm Anthony... Olaide Anthony; a Nigerian. An M.Sc. graduate of the university of Sydney and this is 1814.

Getting out of office that sunny afternoon, running into Old Sir Lugard and spending hours discussing about the long forgotten coal mine in the outskirts, that proved volcanic whenever there was a storm, wasn't altogether what I proposed that morning before getting out of bed. I never knew what was in stuck for me. I packed early and told the secretary I was heading somewhere important. She shook her head and smirked,tapped on the monochrome computer in front of her and gave me two dollars.

"That's for half a day Sir, full payment for your work", she said while chewing on a minty gum that seemed to plug its smell into my nostrils

"Just what I needed, thanks Jolie... and please tell khloe I left", I said and walked briskly out of the building.

As I walked across the streets, thoughts kept meeting thoughts inside my head. Grandma used to tell me stories about Africa, about home.
"The transatlantic slave bureau brought us all here", she'd say, " find time and go home, it's hell out here". But dad never let her talk more than that about home to me. He would say,

"Mom, stop telling my kid shits about some African demons, Christ has redeemed us all and brought us to freedom. Yes, through slavery but we're free now. Thanks to God and Lincoln. The climate's good".

But if the climate were really such that it did not demand our hopping around for jobs for health's sake at regular intervals, and if others efficiently making known at home the needs of foreign fields from first-hand knowledge, would we be willing to go, live and die overseas? Grandma was right, Every African on this land bought his freedom in exchange for his brains.

I took a train to Boston town, to see John Wayne. I really must get back on my feet and be a man.  Joly's been a good woman and a wife but she has refused to give birth to a child while we're still struggling to pay the water and electricity bills. I got to his workplace forty minutes later and headed to the secretary.

"Hi Madison, John's in?".

"Hello Mr Tony, quite a while. Yes, he's in a board meeting. You can go in and hold on a minute. I'll reach him on his cellphone", Madison, John's secretary.

"Thanks".

In his office, Eden would've been intimidated. The cloistered walls and peaceful picturesque of torrent streams engraved on the walls was spectacular.
I paced around John Wayne's cabin for a bit, in awe. John shot up real fast now, he has built a large and attractive room on to his house for the purpose of holding meetings and services for the uptown business men of his outlying suburbs and beyond. Just in three years, he's now president of the ompany- The Southpaw products company. I stopped pacing and thought about jolly and I. I could change my mind now and tell John NO!, enough of him getting rich off my ideas. I slammed hard on his desk out of frustration and noticed a simple piece of stone on which was carved one word: *TODAY*. And while I haven't a piece of stone on my desk back home, I do have a poem pasted on my mirror where I can see it when I shave every morning. A poem by myself:

_*"Happy the man, and happy he alone,*_
*_He, who can call to-day his own;_*
*_He who, secured within, can say:_*
*_To-morrow, do thy worst for I have liv'd to-day"._*

"Tony!", I turned around to face John as he enters, "Sorry, the secretary's been one hell of a pin in the butt this days, what's up?".
I tipped him an handshake and sat on a leathery armchair, the leather stiffer than the best on my couch. I sighed.

"John, I... I... I kind of don't wann do this again. Shit bro, I'm not getting young'r and I'm broke as hell. Ain't making anything outta the stipends you gimme fo' mi brains...", I lisped.

He paused, laughed and pinched out a tobacco from out of his pants. "Look Sam... things been rough with business lately... FULL STORY ON AMAZON; DM FOR DIRECT LINK.

Yours without blemish
BIGG GEORGE