Written by Anuoluwapo Oyekole


Dear Emoji Man, 

I woke up at 2am and was greeted by sad news on my timeline. 

I read from Twitter about the passing of a known novelist and film maker. I sat on my bed and kept repeating, “Is he really dead?” Still, in all of the sadness that enveloped me, I was grateful for having received your very first letter. It awakened my senses to a horizon of possibilities. 

You wrote.

To me.

Since I got your letter, I’ve been basking in the pleasure of being written back to and absorbing the euphoria of receiving words that were curated specially for me by you. No, these aren’t words written for your audience or to an unknown reader you might never meet or know about. These are words created because you thought of me and I treasure them. I really do, because I fear they might be the last. 

I saw a movie yesterday. “Perfect Sense.” That’s the title. Did I tell you I love soft apocalyptic movies? Of course, I appreciate the ones with a great love story more than any other kind but in this one, the human race gradually lost its senses; from the olfactory to taste, then auditory and finally darkness came upon the world as something like blindness took over.

It was baffling but at the same time awakening. I was awakened to the infallible fact that our job here is to make monuments from our moments. 

Emoji man, I don’t want to wait till tomorrow to know what time you take your walks, or if you still read the newspaper, or what colour of sofa sits in your living room. I don’t want to wait for dawn before I know what your favourite food is or if you cook, make a good cocktail or even drink alcohol. I don’t want to count seconds to know if you have a genius kid or two and if they write too. 

I really don’t want us to wait another day, repeat this cycle over and over again before we share words that make or mar our world. I perceive that you aren’t impulsive and you definitely take your time to make things or people worth your time and effort. Because I don’t know many things about you, tell me how to make this count. Tell me how to make this mean something.

Take this letter as my “boy-scout-ready” at letting you know me in every bit. Take this as a passcode, Morse code, which ever code you like for buying time for more of your customized words, or mine, tailored with sheets and inks and additionally in this case; bytes and megabytes! 

I wish I could be patient right now but I don’t want to wait… I anxiously anticipate and hope you would write again but till then, I sign out with your new name for me; Gen Z Geh and may the soul of the writer – Biyi Bandele, who passed while we slept rest peacefully. 


Yours Restlessly, 

Gen Z Geh.

P.S: I secretly like that you call me Gen Z. Let’s just say I like that you are buying me tons of vaults in the bank of time! 


Written by : PMA

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