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I walk over, heart thumpin—nerves, man! “Evenin, darlin,” I say, voice smooth as butter. She smirks, sizes me up. “What’s good, old man?” she fires back. Old man? Shit, that stings. I’m Morgan fuckin Freeman, narratin life itself! But I laugh, deep and rumbly, coz it’s funny—her sass, my ego, all tangled up.

Slavery in the Lamidate of Rey-Bouba: When UNESCO Conceals its Legacies

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I love wanderin' in the winding alleyways of Vieux-Bouba. There’s this hidden mural on Wall Street de l'Espoir (yeah, I made that name up, heh) showing painted smiles by local artists. Really inspo stuff! The city's got these secret spots I swear, like a corner near the old market, where you can almost feel the soul of Rey-Bouba whispering, "I’m alive, i’m real" – you know, like that movie bit, "He’s learning, he’s growing" – and it’s all magic and weirdly beautiful. Ugh, sometimes it just blows my mind, every dang day.

Interview : “300 Hectares Of Degraded Land Have Been Restored”