OG culer since 04

Football and politics. A true Barcelona and Messi fan. An advocate for good governance and a foremost Obidient. Ymal. Pedri

[OG culer since 04 @bufaFCB]

I think Brazil will wipe the floor with Norway in tonight’s FWC match. What do y’all think?

[Chinenye Agbazue @CAgbazue]

This is what you get when you pretend to cheat on your wife 😂

[M ° @7tingxxs]

Who is your all-time favorite GTA legend ?🤔

[Humanstory @HumanStor]

Is as if the Masses and the government have moved on from this Case

If you you haven't moved on please retweet this for the sake of this innocent kids they deserves freedom let the Nigerians government do something

[Larry of LA 🙄 @hills_don1]

My daughter moved to Tokyo when she was 23. She has not been home in eleven years, but every spring the money arrives exactly 12 million yen wired to the account I use for her mothers hospital bills. The village thinks I won the lottery. I smile and change the subject.
This cherry blossom season I flew without warning. At 68, the long journey rattled my bones, but the empty chair at our dinner table hurt worse. I found the address from an old postcard and took three trains to a quiet suburb. The house was modest, traditional wooden gates, a small garden. The gate was not locked.
I stepped inside and the world tilted.
The garden was perfect neat gravel paths, blooming azaleas, a tiny koi pond but silent. No laughter. No footsteps. A single womans yukata hung on the veranda. I slid open the shoji door.
Inside smelled of green tea and nothing else. The living room had one low table, one cushion. On the wall hung a single framed photo of my daughter, Aiko, smiling beside an older Japanese man in a dark suit. His hand rested on her waist like ownership.
My legs carried me upstairs. The first room held only womens clothes and makeup. The second was a small studio with cameras, soft lighting, and rows of elegant kimonos. The third made my knees buckle.
Shelves of cash bundles. Ledgers in neat kanji. A thick folder labeled Contract 15 Years. Medical records showed surgeries, voice training, and dates that matched the first money transfers. A separate envelope held letters she had written but never sent each one ending with I am fine, Mama. Do not worry.
I was still holding one when the front door opened.
Aiko stood there in a simple gray sweater, hair shorter than I remembered, face pale. She dropped her bag. Mama how?
We stared until she crossed the room and folded into my arms like she was ten years old again.
The story came out in whispers over cold tea.
She had gone for a teaching job. Debt collectors were circling our house back home after her fathers death. A wealthy businessman offered sponsorship become his private companion, hostess, and image. Live the role perfectly. Send money home. Never speak of it. The contract renewed every few years; breaking it meant bankruptcy, ruined reputation, and threats that went beyond courts.
She had protected me with silence and yen.
That night we burned some of the old ledgers in the garden. The next weeks were a careful dance selling jewelry, moving small amounts, waiting for his next business trip. When the window opened, we left with two small suitcases and the clothes on our backs.
Back in our Philippine village the old house creaked with life again. Aiko opened a tiny flower shop beside the market. She arranges bouquets with steady hands now, teaches neighborhood girls ikebana on weekends, and sometimes hums old songs while watering the plants.
Customers say she has healing hands. Only I see the way she still glances at dark sedans.
Three months later a polite envelope arrived with no return address. Inside was the final payment stub and a single line in his handwriting: The garden is closed.
Aiko read it, folded the paper neatly, and tucked it into her apron. Then she handed me a fresh white rose.
Plant this one with Mamas grave, she said. We are done paying rent for our lives.
Some evenings we sit on the porch watching fireflies. She rests her head on my shoulder the way she did as a child. The money still comes sometimes smaller amounts now from her flower shop profits.
I no longer call it luck.
I call it freedom, bought with eleven years of silence and one mother brave enough to open the wrong door.

[Pamilerin😎🤏 @PamilerinMide]

One thing Okinni got absolutely right was the casting. @omobola_val delivered a performance that stayed with me long after the movie ended. #OKINNITHEMOVIE

Watch here: https://t.co/nA6uxDwHeB

[SAM_FilmPlug 🎬 @Sammyp36987055]

Bro, rules are rules. You messed with an old man just doing his job you got what you deserved.😂😂

[OG culer since 04 @bufaFCB]

@FabrizioRomano He seems to be a good buy

[Omo Gift @Emmanue09602758]

Lindsay Lohan. forever in my heart as a child actor.
movie so good it has rewatch value

[Whispers ♻️ @josh_1234_5]

This color combination is pure perfection 😍👇

[khalifa @_0Nestor]

Can someone explain why Toyota designed that space?

[Mr X @OmanchiXavier]

The world cup has not even finished, fans are already getting pregnant

[LILMICKY 🙃 @LILMICKY011]

Little Jack never stays in one place

[𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬 @unc_borris]

When did you realize your partner was an idiot?

[Maik @DrMaikMD]

Brazil have never beaten Norway in international football.

🇳🇴 Norway 1–1 Brazil (1988)
🇳🇴 Norway 4–2 Brazil (1997)
🇳🇴 Norway 2–1 Brazil (1998 World Cup)
🤝 Norway 1–1 Brazil (2006)

🇳🇴 Norway: 2 wins
🤝 Draws: 2
🇧🇷 Brazil: 0 wins

Brazil to break. ❤️
Norway to win. 🔄
👀⚽

[ALADE TOP GUY @mlffx_]

Married half a decade and change… Bro deserves so much better. She’s for the streets, no cap.

[pulseby_M @pulseby_M]

“The female versions of the World Cup players.”

[ijn @godknowsdgj1]

Wow, it’s absolutely stunning—it sparkles! ✨

[WOLFE @_Alpha101]

What’s that one clear sign the opposite gender will give if he/she finds you attractive ??

[Patchris @DanisonPatience]

This is what happened.

Years ago, a man murdered his wife and daughter in the upstairs apartment before taking his own life.
The landlord has lived with the guilt of renting the place ever since, knowing strange things happen there. He is innocent.

No, the landlord is guilty.
He sealed the apartment, and the spirits of those people now haunt the building. His warning is an attempt to keep anyone from discovering the truth.

[HEPHZIBAH ❤️ @HEPHZIBAHr6]

The release of the Ekiti kidn@p victims after 57 days in captivity is both a relief and a heartbreaking reminder of the human cost of insecurity. Tragically, one of the victims did not survive the ordeal.

Imagine being held captive for nearly two months after attending a peaceful open-air crusade. Many of the survivors were so weak they couldn't even walk and had to be carried into the hospital for treatment. That alone shows just how devastating and trau matic their experience must have been.