Born under the sun of Sénégal, Paris is where my ghosts learned to speak. Night owl with a camera in my hand, and my heart on my sleeve; I document my chaotic, beautiful life through my lens and raw, no-bullshit blog posts. I thrive on solitude, yet somehow attract madness. People come and go like weather, and I never bother checking the forecast.
The Church of The Glowing Screen
I was in the metro today, squished between a guy blasting bad techno and a woman clutching her Louis Vuitton like a newborn baby. A quick glance around, and it hit me: every single person was worshipping at the altar of their phone. Heads down, faces illuminated by the glow of tiny screens. It wasn’t just boredom—this was devotion.
Ticking Clocks and Wrinkling Mirrors
There’s something raw and brutally honest about the passage of time. Some folks like to romanticize it with some wisdom shit, others dread it, clutching at Botox syringes and kale smoothies like they’re talismans against the inevitable. I guess I’m somewhere in between, leaning closer to the existential panic side of the spectrum.
Smiling for The Algorithm
Look around… the streets are filled with wannabe supermodels. Heads buried in their phones, polishing their Insta personas. Every corner is a photo op, every meal a post, every thought an opportunity for a status update. It’s like we’re all extras in some digital Truman Show, where the real world is just a backdrop to the main event… Themselves.
About Me
Alright… You’re here, so let’s get into it. No filters, no fluff.
This blog is a front-row ticket to my life; a mash-up of everything I love, everything I question, and all the things I’m still trying to make sense of. Call it therapy maybe, or just the ramblings of a guy who’s been around, done a few things, got himself in trouble way too often because of his reckless behavior, his sarcasm and his dark humor… and yet still doing the same shit.