Zionadebisi Personal essays, notes, and ideas worth sharing. Browse Latest Posts This is my corner of the internet. I write about whatever catches my attention: books I can’t stop thinking about, projects that consume me, half-formed ideas, and sometimes just…
The shirt says COUSIN CREW in red and white capitals, the letters stacked and sturdy, holly leaves tucked into the corners, snowflakes scattered like someone shook a paper punch over the design. There is a Christmas decoration — a bauble,…
There is motion at your front door. The sentence arrives in a white rounded banner, a small bell icon at its left, the way a phone lights up on a kitchen counter at 11:47 p.m. Below the banner, inside a…
The shirt says three words, stacked, and then it says something else entirely with a stalk of wheat. THANKFUL. GRATEFUL. BLESSED. The lettering is the kind of confident, slightly rounded type that belongs on a church anniversary programme or a…
The shirt says I GOT THAT DOG across the top in cream letters, IN ME beneath. Between the two lines sits a small tan chihuahua in red boxing gloves, planted in front of a brick wall. Behind the dog, much…
There is a version of Britain that fits on a page. It has a date for the Magna Carta, a name for the engineer who built the railways, a list of values, and a line about the rule of law….
The first thing I notice is the hand. Not the words, though they are loud enough — NOT FRIENDLY, DO NOT TOUCH, set in the flat, unarguable register of a warning sign. Not the yellow triangle either, that caution-yellow that…
There is a period at the end of it. That is the first thing I notice. Not the word itself — meh is almost too familiar to see — but the full stop sitting after it like a closed door….
The shirt does not say Cat Daddy in one clean line. It says C and T on either side of a cat silhouette, and then, beneath that small dark shape, the word Daddy. Light lettering on a dark ground. The…
Four vegetables, all smiling. A carrot, a radish, a beet, an onion. Their roots hang visible beneath them, thin and pale against the soil line, as if someone has pulled them up just enough to show you what holds them…
The shirt does not whisper. That is the first thing to notice. The word is meh. — lowercase, a full stop after it, set in a heavy bold white against a dark ground. It is not a small, apologetic meh….