BY FLORENCE BETT-KINYATTI Later, I say to GB, “Let’s play a game.” “I’m listening.” “You’re this villain called Seagurd Bastard, you’re the bad guy. I’m the good guy, the cop, the private investigator. My job is to understand how you think. Or rather, to make you think. I’ll be the
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BY FLORENCE BETT-KINYATTI #1. Why must I complete my undergrad and graduate? Because you want to be that guy who finishes the shit he starts. The guy who sees things through to the bitter end. Ride or die. Uni’s the first space where
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BY FLORENCE BETT-KINYATTI I don’t know what feminism is about. At least not anymore. So much has been written about it lately that I’ve had to unlearn the little I was confident I had learned. I’m a student to feminism now, I’m at its feet waiting to learn from it
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BY FLORENCE BETT-KINYATTI “How has your mechanical engineering degree shaped your art? No no, before you answer that, what was your favourite class in school? “Did I really have one?” Mercy offers me a demure smile. “It was a roller coaster until the end. Maybe I can say I liked
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BY FLORENCE BETT-KINYATTI What would you do if you found out through his Tinder app that your son was gay? Me? I honestly don’t know what I’d do. I’d probably take a minute or more – maybe even a night, maybe a weekend or a season of three months –
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BY FLORENCE BETT-KINYATTI You tell me that your toddler is old enough to reach the door handle and let herself into your bedroom every morning. I find that amusing. I imagine her clambering off her cot, easing herself between the little space of the snugly fitting mosquito net and the
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