In transition.

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Two is invariably my number of preference. Two puppies to chase after at two P.M on a cloudless Sunday afternoon, coffee and cream, pen and paper, the perfect pair of fitted jeans and 2 more papers to go until I bid university goodbye…Whoop 😀 Regrettably, yesterday took a melodramatic turn of events when Wambui and I spent 2 hours trying to comb out my hair.

Silver Lining.

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Arctic, clammed up, ivory, uninspired spaces have consequently become the highlight of my every waking moment. As if the occasional drenched bucket of icy water to give my feet a pulse of their own is not enough, I seem to be getting quickly acquitted to yucky flus and that classic Harry Styles hair do. Nothing as cute as you’d want to imagine seeing as mine makes me look like a hot mess with no common understanding of simple grooming basics. A sight I dread but one that I am keen to embrace!

Camouflaged.

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I know what your mind has been processing for the past couple of micro-minutes between sighting my poorly captioned picture on Instagram and wavering over the link to this post…another one in the forest…really Bri?!

Like Scarlett Johansson.

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Not to sound shallow, but the occasional flare of sculptured gowns, perfectly winged eyeliner, overly flat ironed tresses and mastered airbrush techniques have me bouncing lightly on this vanity cloud; I’m beginning to understand the fuss around fancy Hollywood events and why 10 hours is bare minimum when it comes to slaying the night!

Rooted.

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A descendant. A daughter. A queen. Titles handed to you and I simply because we hail from the land of milk and honey. Of fufu and chapati. Of countryside winds and city lights. Where our melanin radiates all the light we absorb. Where passion drives ambition and opportunities are self-perpetuating. Where sparkles fly over adroit hearts and stars illuminate from typical eyes. Where craftsmen engrave legendary masterpieces to the continent’s axis and melodic beats have the rest of the world feeling extra groovy.

Georges Hobeika.

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After staring at my poorly lit screen for almost an hour, it’s finally dawned on me that I’m possibly unqualified to compound a bunch of pitted adjectives to epitomize the brilliance that is Georges Hobeika.

I’ll take that coconut!

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I’m obsessive over a few things; sunglasses, tea, ice cream, purple lippie, good books and coconut oil!

When it comes to picking favorites I can almost guarantee you the triviality in perfection is almost acute. I’d like to sit here and reminisce on the night I drove 50km for a bottle of coconut oil and how my soul danced to Love and other Grum but my doctorate in illustration should come in handy. Here are 7 tips for using coconut and why your life will never be the same again.

Sandy.

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Yesterday must have clocked away because I really didn’t realise Sunday would be a blink away and from where I stand I’m cringing at the thought of it being Monday!

Retrospect.

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Literally 😀

On some level of oomph and zest, there seems to be a crinkly jiggle to the bounce on my step that only some pre-historic myth could quite possibly some up. Pinch me if you want but let’s be honest, there’s a twinkle of magic that happens when you are completely immersed in positive energy!

Slightly Nautical.

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Just writing this post is making me a little light headed. I made that vile mistake again…you know; the one where you fall in love and get attached way to fast…yeah…but can you blame me for finding lavish beauty between romantic skylines and the sound of waves crashing against dreamy white beaches?