There is something primal about Lagos.
Even a non-Lagosian like me can’t deny the steady heartbeat of this seaport city.
The beat thrums beneath the hustle and bustle of the city, keeping it alive and awake past the wee hours of the morning.
That Lagos beat lures newcomers in like a siren calls to weary sailors, promising: Come, you’ll find what you seek.
That Lagos beat coaxes residents with the dream of a tomorrow draped in the finest aso-oke, riding in a G-wagon, ending in a mansion nestled in the affluence of Banana Island.
That Lagos beat is jarring to the ears of suburban-minded folks who prefer a town that sleeps.
Love it or hate it, Lagos pulses unashamedly, daring you to join its beat or quit the dance floor.