|Source: Wikimedia Commons/Georges Biard|
I'm a little too interested in gossip. I would feel guilty about it if the same weren't true of most of you.
I was sitting in the car, miserable at the fact that my twenty minute drive home from work had somehow turned into a scene from a disaster film. The Lagosians on the road today drove like they were fleeing some great non-existent calamity, forming lanes where there were none, and swerving like they were avoiding rivers of lava. When I got to the end of the traffic, I was shocked to discover that it had no rhyme or reason. There was traffic simply because there was traffic. There was no accident, or bottleneck or police checkpoint. This is one of the many reasons why I say that no one is capable of understanding Lagos. In Lagos, madness is so common that I do not think that any are unafflicted.
It was in the middle of this great inconvenience that I heard the news that Angelina Jolie had done the unthinkable. She'd filed for divorce from Brad Pitt, citing irreconcilable differences. It was a thing I believed impossible.
Hand on heart, I believed that they'd be together till at least one of them died, and maybe not even then. It seemed unlikely that people as pretty as they would ever do themselves the disservice of parting.
Hollywood has proved itself again. If Brad and Angelina can't make it then I do not think that we should expect any other couple to. They seemed to be there for each other through thick and thin. She loved him when he lost his looks, and he loved her when she lost the things this misogynistic society would call the signs of her femininity: her breasts and her ovaries.
The flames of love that originate in that city are so fickle that they're unlikely to last even a second. I suppose it is a shame that they are now the couple that loved and had that love end with a document that says, "No! Our differences are too irreconcilable for me."