Chaotic Peace.

Chaotic Peace Piece.

As my bus stumbled and skidded through the Marina, I thought about how some pattern keep recurring.

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Take Lagos as an example.

It's a big city in a small world. Beauty smoothly blend into horror.

Lagos is rich, abundant in riches, glory and poverty. The land of the wise, the unwise, and a little bit of both.

Lagos, the land of dreams. It's where the beams of divine sunshine—and unbuckled containers—fall on the people. Dreamers dream, Believers believe and Schemers plan on how to steal dreams and beliefs. Prime city. Ohhh the grime. The ostensible stench. Something so foul, only the hunger and fierce bustling nature of lagosians can quench.

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The crime. The facade of beauty.

At the end of the day it's not just Lagos with its unsettling chaos. It's Nairobi too, with its unrefined nature. It's the ever busy New York that seems to wait for no one, but those in a hurry have no clear sight of their destnation. It's Paris, with its multifaceted poise—land of elegance and utmost nondescript.

It's life, it's the world. Normalcy thrives in balance. Maybe the world was never meant to be a flow of intricate goodness.

The gory flirts with the glory. Life hums the same tune as death.

It's just how it's wired to be.