Ethiopian coffee culture arrives in Toronto by way of the Rift Valley.
Habesha dudes usually open with: Don’t I know you? I said, “Have you met me?”
It’s hard to look ahead and move at the same time.
In honour of Ababa Tesfaye, the storyteller father of generations of habesha kids, I’ve added another summary of an oral folktale to the Why Sleep series. This one is a short one, a tale of three really stupid brothers. If the artwork doesn’t get you to click, I don’t now what will…
I walk on down a street I have never known.
On craving “…the same innocent enchantment I had when I was a reader of twelve or thirteen…”
I haven’t received the first ‘NO’ yet, but I’m sure it’s comin’, any day now. So I make sure to do my stretches regularly, the better to be limber enough to spring right back up after I receive the first of many smackdowns to come.
…because I want to look amazing when he next sees me (never mind he does not want me and when I am thinking clearly I don’t want him either)