Ufana Thoughts

An Exhausted Philophobe With A Life That Revolves Around Photography and Could Have Been's...

On Photography, Social Media and Sharing

75-80% of the commercial work I do doesn't turn up on social media 40% of the collaborative work I do will never be edited because something I didn't factor in during the shoot renders the pictures "useless". P.S; this is a rant so don't expect a chronological...

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Birth, Death and the Space In-Between

Hey Guys, Long time no blog. I thought about starting a new blog but I'm a very lazy human and there's so much history on here that it felt almost illegal starting anew on another platform so here we are. Its been three years and 11 days since my last...

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For The Hatred Of New Beginnings

You know how motivational speakers tell you starting over is the best thing that can sometimes happen to you... That is premium bullsh*t. Waking up every morning, knowing you have to face the same reality is hell on earth; so maybe this is a test run...

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Apathetic, Exhausted, Philophobic... Hopeful

So I'm writing this morning because I regressed again and while I'm not sad about it, I'm left wondering when I'll put the past in the past and be able to move on with life, unburdened by the memories of what was, unbothered by the thoughts of what could...

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"On Tombstones of Bears and Tigers" by Ufana Ishoyor

I've been scared to put my new compilation online because most lately, I've been battling with the reality that the world doesn't give two fucks about you unless you're famous, rich, dead or all three rolled in one but reality sucks they say so whatever......

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Blasphemy!

Disclaimer; Turn away now you agreed if you think Kambili deserved to be whipped... Mother taught me that God answerth all, that there's only one God but mother doesn't agree with my being a catholic, for some reason the word of God differs there. Growing...

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Yellow Dresses

Yellow Dresses Bright like the an Evening Sunset,Beautiful like Blooming Sunflowers, Innocent like Baby Allies. We waltz in ballrooms dressed in little Yellow Dresses, and watch from above like phantom drones as plaited fabrics swirl elegantly like Lillie's...

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Dear Whoever...

Dear Whoever , My Story is one characterized by heartbreaks, broken trusts, empty promises and abruptly sunken friendships much like Cameron’s Titanic. Where I can start isn’t a problem but when it would end is probably at the tip of a blade, dislodged...

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Waterfront...

I stood at the waterfront with a beating heart, clothed in dripping blood and held by careless, carefree fingers that threatened to do as they pleased. I shut the rib that had caged and held back my ability to wander the vast arid lands of possibilities...

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Homeless...

They say home isn't four walls, a shiny chandelier, Italian stained windows and a Russian nuclear proof door. Home isn't the Global Positioned Spot where the 'Leprechauns' buried that pot of gold for if it was; the queue might out 'Trump' that that graced...

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Emotions.

Emotions; they come pouring like water off the edge of the Everest; cold and still, like the fires of furnaces of Babylon; heated till the heaters die, dead off of servitude, like the rolling clouds of a Pacific storm, like the stars of the cosmos, like...

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Forever.

Forever was not wanting the new tech conversation she was having with her father to end, cause though she wasn't going to get any, it allowed her the chance to bond all she wanted with the man who raised her. Forever was not wanting the hot, unelectrified...

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Depression!

Potato,Po-tah-to,Tomato,To-ma-toe, You said go, I said noYou said go, I stayed so I struggled and fumbledTo stay strongTo keep hopeI burned; burned bright like the Midgard star, burned fast like a meteoric shower, burned hot like the flames of Tatarus....

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March 19th... (18+)

It is a little past 1 am on the 19th of March and as I gulp down the liquid fire that is this bottle of Campari, I think how my life has changed, quickly I pick my phone and send a text to Aly, “I just did it” and while we are talking via text, I can...

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If Walls Could Talk...

What if the wind had a voice, the hills a thunderous vocal, the sky let off its secrets like raindrops, doors never shut and ajar was the point of all treason… what if walls could talk? Secrets are meant to spill, for rules were made to be broken, if...

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About this blog

An Exhausted Philophobe With A Life That Revolves Around Photography and Could Have Been's...