Apparently, I am a married man now.
I met Tawanda when I was fifteen beers high and six feet deep into sin. That’s what my friends tell me, but I lost count somewhere around five, or was it six…or seven?
I like Tawanda very much. A woman whose beauty comes to life whenever my eyelids are barely able to themselves up, I wish I knew what her last name is. Her image is ever so fleeting, but it is a constant I crave as if my life depends on it. Tawanda, my demon in shiny Brazilian hair. Continue reading