Binyavanga Wainaina tumbled through his middle-class Kenyan childhood out of kilter with the world around him. This world came to him as a chaos of loud and colorful sounds: the hair dryers at his mother’s beauty parlor, black mamba bicycle bells, mechanics in Nairobi, the music of Michael Jackson—all punctuated by the infectious laughter of his brother and sister, Jimmy and Ciru. He could fall in with their patterns, but it would take him a while to carve out his own.

A review by Darkowaa of

The bed sagged after he was done. Mbali lay still, covered in delicious sweat. The only sound in the room was Jakobo’s now-slow breathing beside her, a result from his energetic thrusts. She wanted to joke about the bed, say something tongue-in-cheek about charging him extra if she found it was broken, but the words didn’t come out… [8mins]

Writing is an underestimated art, you are painting colorful images in people’s minds by using words of black and white.
- a very wise person.