Sometimes, I wonder what the world, my world, of writing, would have been without him by my side. Boring? Hot? No, I’d take the latter.
Standing like a colossus inches away from my desk, this friend is closer than you think. When beads of sweat should have been dancing of my dark forehead, his cool breeze caresses my head, stops it from “knocking” like an overworked car engine.
Although he makes me look like a dwarf whenever I stand close to him, he is generous enough to let me bent its vent, to wrap its cold fingers around my hot, humid, tensed frame.
My friend is never tired. He sits comfortably, like a king, on a rectangular wooden box.
Less I forget! My friend does not have a dark skin and he’s neither an albino. His sparkling white body reminds me of the angels, their voice, how melodious it is, of their flowing white gowns, waving and singing “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!! Halleluiah!!!
The office Air Conditioner, he is my friend. He creates the ambience –a cool and chilly room –for my creativity as a writer to burst forth, unhindered by the steamy Ibadan sun.