On my crusade to conquer all rooftops in New York City, I finally made it to MagicHour 🙂 Decorated with pretty pink sculptures in enticing poses, the faux garden atop the city provides a perfect, fun escape from the city complete with great music, strong drinks, plenty food choices and ample Instagram-able opportunities of the city view and of the moving carousel dining table.
It’s my first time ever hearing of the Boko Haram and, like most, I wish I never had. Still, as a human being, I know that I should do something. What can I do? I know I’m not the only one asking myself that question. Whose responsibility is this? What I fear now, is a ridiculously grossing box-office hit, reenacting a story about how no one helped.
I, too, am too late to the battlefield. I too, feel too far removed from the rest of the world. So, unlike some, I rest well at night, never fearing that armies of my enemies will set fire to my home in the middle of the night, herd me into a van and sell me off to be the wife (or sex slave) of men who murder dreams.