- The Artist -
I'm Panamanian & Nigerian. I have been in the States since circa. 2011.
Natural, no tattoos/piercings, hazel eyes and 5'8 in height, Venusian, feminine, Ọṣun’s child through and through. Candid Photos here.
Thrillers, historical fiction, philosophy, design and spiritual exploration. My favorite book is The Stranger by Albert Camus.
Italian food, Thai food, and anything devilishly spicy! I love gelato too!
A nice glass of Prosecco Brut. During the winter, I love mocha lattes.
I have an extensive vinyl collection: Some artists include: The Cure, Orchestra Baobab, Travis Scott, Louis Armstrong, Fela Kuti.
I'd characterize my style as ultra-feminine but simple/form fitting.
Want to know a lil somethin’
It’s me, Oni, I’m the artist and the lover. Actually stop. Go watch Love Jones. I know you may not watch a lot of “black” movies but watch it, it takes place in Chicago. That’s me and that’s you, thats’ what this is. I know it seems like I’m “elusive”, or god forbid “intimidating” perhaps my allure is distant and worrisome. I get it, I don’t make it easy for you to know every word on every page that is me, the book of me. I’m not an open book - I’m a few volumes, some rare that only book collectors have seen, some best sellers, and that’s okay - who wants a one dimensional veneer? I was told I needed to add more to this page because even still, with all the personality I tried to punch into a concise masterpiece of a website (If I do say so myself), I still fell short. So here it is, my love, here you are.
I’m not cold - in fact I run hot; too hot.
I was told that I am mysterious, and carry myself in a way that is otherworldy; graceful. but what you ought to know is that I am soft. I am warm. I get lonely. I crave tight hugs and forehead kisses. I must admit, I do talk to you more than you’d probably expect because while it is “labor”, it is a labor of love; from me. I love, love. Really.
What is it about these “about” pages? When I had a long one, no one read it. Perhaps that’s because when it was long, I had no voice. I wrote what I thought you wanted to hear - but that’s boring. That is one dimensional. So I cut it, all of it…but then it was empty.
“Who is she? Why is she so quiet?” I’m not quiet. I’m just not one to speak unless I have something to say. I don’t want this to sound corny - though I am 1000% sure it will but I love talking about pure nerd shit - all the time. I just cursed. Is that unbecoming? Perhaps.
I never said I was ‘high end’ I’m no end, I’m the end.
The end of your quiet moments spent feeling alone.
Back to the nerd shit, I like talking about my 300+ Vinyl collection, I like talking about cartomancy, and occultism, making up inside jokes from dumb movies I watched as a kid - even anime (yes, I know), food, other countries I’ve been to, tarot, but I also love “the finer things” (someone needs to come up with a less played out version of that saying asap). I love anxious, introverted, passionate people. I love the quiet ones and the loud ones. I love brief moments of joy and long moments of intimacy expressed vividly. Going to plays, watching movies holding hands, sleep overs, flying to small cities, getting absolutely lost and not wanting to be found.
I remember once, I was with a man who looked like a young Richard Gere and we danced together in my living room.
We had champagne, chocolate, my hair was a curly tousled mop, wrap dress flowing from my thighs like a waterfall, the soft glow of my Edison lights illuminating my copper, teal, witch’s lair of a condo. Hands wrapped around my waist like a belt I never wanted to take off. It was beautiful.
I am uncontrived grace and sensuality given generously. No illusions - no frippery.