Under the thatched helmet of our creative mind, made of raffia fronds and intellectual cadence, sits a bevy of eggheads holding palmwine jugs, frothing with condensed prime nectar. Nearby, village griots are in conclave to anoint a fledgling elder into the commune of philosophers. Sixty-Five is not exactly ancient enough, but Toyin Akinosho is deep in...The post The Restless Run Of Poblisha’s Creative Instincts: Musing On Akinosho At 65 appeared first on New Telegraph.
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