Every migration begins with a departure, but the true journey happens in the space between—in the transition.
For me, that transition meant leaping across continents, moving from Nigeria to the UK over the last four years. It meant tearing up the map of everything I knew: the rhythm of the streets, the familiar faces, the predictable warmth of the weather, and the intricate machinery of economic realities that I have come to understand. Amidst the chaos of rebuilding life from scratch, adjusting to a starkly different culture, and navigating new landscapes, time seemed to blur. Yet, somehow, in the quiet cracks of that turbulence, I managed to write a book, A Museum of Unfinished Men (Get it on Amazon).
You would think that surviving and writing through a major life upheaval would leave you creatively fulfilled. Instead, I found myself facing a profound drought. Back home, creative opportunities had been second nature: they were accessible, abundant, and woven into our daily existence. Here, the initial sensory overload of a new environment gave way to a quiet, lingering isolation. Getting used to new creative stimulations, finding platforms with open doors, adjusting pacing, and trying to find my footing left me creatively starved, both in input and in output.
If you are a writer, artist, or thinker living away from home, you probably know this dilemma intimately. But transition is never just physical.
For many, crossing that threshold could look entirely different: it is shedding one life for another through marriage, divorce, or parenthood; it is the sudden, jarring worldview shift of facing an illness; or it is navigating the psychological landscape of learning an entirely new way of seeing the world.
Whether it is moving continents or crossing invisible, emotional boundaries, cultural shifts, or life’s major transitions, all of these are transits. They shake our foundations, disorient our senses, and yet, they are the very experiences that stimulate us creatively. They leave us full of things to say, even when we feel starved of the space to say them.
That realisation is precisely why TRANSITUS exists.
We built TRANSITUS to be a home for all creators navigating physical, geographical, emotional, and cultural shifts. We want to tear down the walls of isolation and create a robust, welcoming cultural bridge—a place where your stories of movement, memory, and profound life change are not just welcomed, but championed.
Whether you express yourself through poetry, short fiction, essays, reviews, or visual art, TRANSITUS is designed to give your voice the professional infrastructure and passionate readership it deserves.
I know what it means to feel creatively hungry. I know what it means to search for a space that truly gets it. Let’s build that space together.
Welcome to TRANSITUS. We are open, we are listening, and we cannot wait to read the droppings of your transitions!
