I’m going to call Mr Dayo today. I’m chilling in this alright apartment at Victoria Island. I have no serious doubts with regard to my sanity or mental wellbeing, and I’m plotting some schemes to enable me discontinue my enrolment at that soul-eroding university. Life is good. I call Mr Dayo’s number. The phone rings … Continue reading Psych Ward Diaries. Addendum 2.
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