Something about it came from deep inside me.

I had just arrived Lagos from Istanbul. Travelling light as always, with just my hand luggage. As I stepped away from immigration, someone asked me if I needed a trolley – and the answer rolled off my lips: “I have no baggage.”

Of course, I was speaking about my trip. But then I was also speaking about myself.

My unconscious brought that so easily, so effortlessly, because it knew.

I have no baggage.

Any thing I feel, I explore.
Any hurt I feel, I deal.
Any person that upsets me, I tell.
Any insecurity, I share.
Any hang-ups, I interrogate.

I have no baggage.

That’s the most important gift I give myself everyday.