He’s wasted gallons of paint thinner striking his faithful Zippo, its charred wick, virility giving way to thrift, rationed down to a little stub, the blue flame sparking about the edges in the dark, the many kinds of dark, just to see what’s happening with her face. Each new flame, a new face.

You British plundered half the world for your own profit. Let&#39;s not pass it off as the Age of Enlightenment.

There are no rebels in the cinema business.

Many things can crumble a man's dreams, but nothing does it faster than a querrelsome wife.

Written By Prezigha Fafi

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