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[OPINION] Omololu Olunloyo: An Egret Flies Home

By Lasisi Olagunju
If he had lived one more week, he would have defeated himself. When he turned 87 three years ago, I told him we would celebrate his 90th very big in 2025. He replied that it wouldn’t be necessary because he would die at 89.
“Eighty-nine? Why 89? That’s an odd number.”
“But being first is being odd. Number one is an odd number.” He reminded me.
“Yes. And good luck lies in odd numbers.” I said that quotation and looked straight into his eyes. He smiled and dragged me into Shakespeare’s ‘The Merry Wives of Windsor’. Act 5 Scene 1:
‘…This is the third time;
‘I hope good luck lies in odd numbers.
‘Away I go.
‘They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death. Away!’
We chorused the lines, laughed and then plunged into our usual discussions of mathematics, literature, music, life and death.
He was my muse. He was also a big fan of what I do here. We met in 1995 at Tribune House and bonded forever. I was a Tribune reporter, he was a Tribune columnist, a very regular face and a reliable source. I worshipped at the feet of his genius. A friend said if knowledge was a religion, Omololu Olunloyo was its high priest.
Dr Olunloyo explained to me why he believed hitting 90 years of age wouldn’t be one of his blessings. “You see, I am a scientist but I believe in superstition. I was told a long time ago by someone that I would die at 89…”
“And you believed that person?” I asked him.
“Why not?”
About this time last year, the social media announced him dead. I got a number of phone calls from people seeking to know if it was true.
I did the calculation. He was 89 just a week earlier. I asked myself if the superstitious finally triumphed over the scientist. I called his phone number and heard his voice.
“Lagunju, I am still around. Did you also believe I was dead?”
“You are 89, sir.” He laughed. I laughed. We understood each other.
He then repeated to me what he told the press: “Those breaking death news and the person presumed dead will all die one day. I’ve been lucky. My father died at 42, while my mother died at 102. I’m 89. I’ve crossed the expected life age.” It was the second time his death would be announced. The first was in June 2022. Yesterday was “the third time” as predicted by Shakespeare in our ‘The Merry Wives of Windsor’ quote above.
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When he turned 89 last year, I told him the “ides of April are come.” His response was Julius Caesar’s “Ay, but not gone.” So, I was looking forward to April 14 this year when he would clock 90 and I would tell him how big the prophet lied. I was wrong. He would not be Omololu Olunloyo if he got the figure wrong.
He was a fine blend of Owu and Ibadan: headstrong, resilient, loving, friendly and complex. He would give you anything if he loved you. In the first week of January 2006, a Peugeot 406 car drove into my mother’s eighth day Fidau in my hometown, Eripa, Osun State. I was shocked to see Dr Olunloyo come out of the car. I didn’t bother to invite him because the notice would be too short.
“You came? But I did not invite you, sir?”
“I read it in the papers.” He said with a smile. My hometown is about 160 kilometers to his Ibadan home. He came because a friend’s home is never too far.
Just like Isaac Newton, Olunloyo’s autobiography or memoir was never written. Several years ago, I asked him to write his story. He told me he was too young to write. “My mother is still alive. I won’t die now.” He told me. When his mum, Alhaja Tejumola Abebi, died on Tuesday 22 October, 2013, I reminded him again on the urgency and necessity to write. He was silent, and sober. He told me he felt vulnerable without his mum. But he made some frantic efforts in the last two years. He was gathering stuffs. His articles, his lectures. His photos. He told me he would get it done. I was not convinced. His prodigious brain was super working but the body, confined to the wheelchair, was weak, very going.
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When we both knew dusk was approaching, we discussed more frequently. I thought I could download him, everything. I once asked him if he knew from whom he got his genius. He told me his mother and his father were greater geniuses. There is a 14 July, 1979 letter to him from Chief Obafemi Awolowo addressed to “My dear Omololu” in which the sage praised the man’s heritage of genius: “I still cherish an admiring memory of your father. He was, along with late Oyesina and Lasebikan, a pioneer of higher education in Ibadan. If memory serves, he was the first man in Ibadan to tackle successfully the London Matriculation Examination which was rated very high in those days.” That was from Awo. There is also an 11 May, 1981 letter in which Chief M.K.O. Abiola lauded Olunloyo’s “outstanding career as Commissioner for Education and later Local Government and Chieftaincy Affairs in the old Western State between 1967 and 1971.” Abiola said, “it was he who in 1970 solved the Alaafin of Oyo riddle.”
The Daily Times ran an editorial on him when he was reassigned on January 16, 1970 from the Western State Ministry of Education to the Ministry of Local Government and Chieftaincy Affairs. I find it very remarkable that he was credited with forcing the famous Ibadan International School to reduce its fees “from the incredible annual figure of £500 per pupil to about £135.” One paragraph from that editorial is worth quoting verbatim: “Perhaps what posterity will remember Dr Olunloyo longest for is the ruthless, uncompromising and fearless war he waged on unscrupulous school proprietors who established sub-standard schools in order to amass private fortunes. Most of these Shylock school proprietors in the West have been put out of business. Others who ran sub-standard schools have been compelled to raise their standards to a level acceptable to Dr Olunloyo’s Western State Ministry of Education.” You can imagine how he must have felt at his twilight seeing substandard becoming the standard everywhere.
Was there an issue, topic or subject I broached with him which he did not discuss? None that crosses my mind this moment. During his brief stay as governor, I remember there was an urban legend that his mother was his ‘Chief Security Officer’. So, in May 2019, we interviewed him for the newspaper I edit. I asked him why, as governor, he planted his mother as a major line of defence, screening visitors, deciding who saw him and who didn’t.
“I just used her to scare people away.” He told us.
“Why would you want people scared?”
“She was very inquisitive. Look at this book for instance, ‘The Path to Play’ by Adelegan. When I had a problem which was getting intractable, she would step in. There’s one amazing episode as recorded in the book. (Reads from the book): ‘Olunloyo came to Ipetu-Ijesa accompanied by his mother to speak to my people, especially the representatives of the so-called Ibadan reactionaries.’ You can see the rest in the book…”
“So, why did you go to Ipetu with your mother?”
“The problem was very difficult. So, I took her there as a scarecrow…”
“Scarecrow? How?”
“Scarecrow. You know, when you see an unusual scenario…”
“But it’s quite unusual for a commissioner to have been accompanied by his mother on an official duty tour…”
“Yes; but a young commissioner.”
“And Mama was quite comfortable following you?”
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“Yes. She was quite comfortable. Bola Ige followed me somewhere in Osogbo. He followed me to Fakunle Comprehensive High School. We had some trouble there and I asked him to follow me. He was Commissioner for Lands, I was Commissioner for Education. So, they were wondering what Bola Ige came to do. We were friends and I took him along and the teachers at Fakunle were scared to see the two of us… Two rascals in conductor dress.”
At 5.58 am yesterday (6 April, 2025), another of his mentees and former editor of the Nigerian Tribune, Dapo Ogunwusi, called to tell me what we had always dreaded. The mainframe was down. Omololu Olunloyo, richly endowed library and super computer, had gone with the winds. Lékeléke ti rè’lú ìk’efun. Never again those late night calls to discuss matters of science and the arts. No more discussions of Fagunwa, his forests and the Irunmole. No more T.S. Eliot and ‘The Waste Land’ and its “April is the cruellest month.” There are no more epics and blank verses from John Milton. There won’t again be sessions on leaders and Othello’s Iago. No more Mozart and Beethoven and their music; no more lessons in Galois, Gauss and Blaise Pascal and their geniuses in Maths. For almost 30 years, that was our routine.
In life, Olunloyo was easily attracted to excellence. In death, he carefully chose the company he would keep across the river. Like Albert Einstein, he chose the month of April to exit this plane. Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio), High Renaissance’s Italian painter and architect, shared a trinity of greatness with Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo. He died on 6 April, 1520. Olunloyo accurately slotted himself into that good company. It is very difficult to believe that he won’t be found again in that powerhouse at Molete, Ibadan, surrounded by books, papers and books.
Omo Olówu òdùrú,
Omo ajíf’epé s’ere…
Sùn un re.
I’m
News
OPINION: Dangote’s Oily Wars

By Lasisi Olagunju
In February 2025, Daily Trust quoted him as saying:
“I’ve been fighting battles all my life and I have not lost one yet.”
In May 2025, Business Day quoted him as saying: “I have been fighting all my life. And I will win at the end of the day.”
Aliko Dangote, President of Dangote Group, speaks those words each time there is a war to fight. In the last two, three weeks, I have heard him repeat that statement about fighting all life and winning all the time.
There is a bird in the Yoruba forest called Òrófó. Its mouth is its executioner. If I fought and won all the time, I would not display the trophy all the time.
Each time I hear people boast about their strength and blessings, I reach for my favourite quote:
“Travel and tell no one,
Live a true love story and tell no one,
Live happily and tell no one,
People ruin beautiful things.”
It is one of my priceless quotes; it is from Khalil Gibran, Lebanese-American poet who lived from January 6, 1883 to April 10, 1931. There is a reason why the light travels light; it is because the world is heavy.
Dangote may be correct in his self-assessment as the unbeaten. He is the lion in Nigeria’s industrial jungle. He fought and won in cement, in sugar, in flour. But did he win the noodles war? When he started his refinery project, I heard people who said we should expect another war in that sector. And that is what we see. But if I were him, I would reflect that even the lion has limits. A lion that fights hyenas, leopards, wild dogs, and hunters all at once will soon learn that its roar and paws are not enough. If I were him, I would know that there is a difference between the unbeaten and the unbeatable. I would know that strength spread too thin becomes weakness. A lion who fights every creature in the forest risks exhaustion. It risks even worse: isolation.
The wealthy man who fights and wins all wars now has his hands full. At the beginning of his refinery journey, Aliko fought the regulators over approvals and compliance issues; he crossed that river and turned his cannon on depot owners and marketers; this week he is fighting the unions. And now the unions are responding by shutting the valves. PENGASSAN at the weekend ordered a blitzkrieg on Nigeria’s fuel lifeline: it instructed its members to stop all gas supply to Dangote refinery with immediate effect; it ordered crude oil supply valves to the facility shut; it directed loading operations for vessels headed to the refinery suspended. Its grouse was the mass sack of workers there.
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It has been one war after another, a rolling theatre of conflicts that raises the question: can one man, no matter how wealthy, fight every battle and still win the war?
But the unions are not saints either. Nigerian unions roar justice but feed like hyenas. They thrive in disruption. They fight for rents. A union that turns every quarrel into a weapon or business may one day find that it has destroyed its own leverage.
Sword that destroyed its sheath is homeless. I do not know what democracy calls pulling the plug on a promising patient. But I know that under the military, those who did what PENGASSAN ordered at the weekend were deemed to have committed grievous crimes. Luckily, we are in a democracy.
Shortly before the PENGASSAN bombardment, there was the war with DAPPMAN, the depot owners and marketers. Dangote said they demanded ₦1.5 trillion in hidden subsidies each year. He said he would not pay. He said they wanted him to cover coastal charges and logistics. He insisted that his gantry price was fair. He dared them to sue. The marketers replied that Dangote sold cheaper petrol abroad than at home. They called him disruptive. They accused him of undermining competition. So, the drama grows. The lion roars at unions, at traders, at depot owners, and at those he called the mafia in the oil industry. The elephant struggles with its own bulk. But wisdom says no hunter fights every battle.
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I had this hearty discussion with some friends yesterday. They think the unions were unreasonable and exploitative. I agreed with them but asked them to also check what a monopoly in fuel refining and supply does to national security. All monopolies are dangerous.
I told my friends what a voice told me: If one refinery is the nation’s fuel heart, don’t we know that one strike or sabotage can paralyze the country?
What if the refinery owner even decide to ‘go on strike’ or produce and refuse to sell?
When a country’s situation is as it is, will that be said to be sovereignty? That will be fragility disguised as progress. I hope you agree with this.
No village entrusts its present and future sustenance to one farm, no matter how large. Nigeria does not need monopolies, whether in refineries or in unions. What it needs is balance, competition, and choice.
Nigeria needs competition, not concentration. It needs many refineries, not one. But where are the investors? Where is the government? Why do we need more than the behemoth in Ibeju-Lekki? Foklorists tell of an elephant. It was the envy of the savannah. Grass bent under its feet. Trees shook at its steps. But when drought came, its size became its curse. Its massive body needed more water than the land could give. Smaller animals survived on little streams. The elephant collapsed under its own weight.
That is the risk with this lone refinery. It is an elephant mighty and heavy. The body and its demands are a burden to it. Its operational environment is choky. I pity the promoter. He must have found out too late that this terrain is not solid and firm as concrete; not as soft as dough. The refinery ground is crude, oily, slippery, and treacherous.
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Those who know told me that in this business of refinery and refining, tension will remain forever high because margins are thin. In there, refineries buy crude in dollars; they sell fuel in naira. Debts keep breathing in banks while workers hum discontent with the life they live. As investors juggled the figures to stay afloat, at the UNGA, we heard rhetorics that tell the world to accelerate its movement towards clean energy. Clearly, the elephant carries more weight than the land may sustain.
But what kind of country fears convulsion, or even convulses, because a private company has issues with its stakeholders? Ask around how many refineries Egypt has. Google says Egypt currently has eight operating oil refineries, with a total nameplate capacity of approximately 763,000 barrels per day. And Algeria? Six: five operational, the sixth about to be commissioned. How about small Ghana? I asked Google and this is its final answer: “Ghana currently has two main operational refineries, the state-owned Tema Oil Refinery (TOR) and the Sentuo Oil Refinery… In addition to these two, the nation is also developing the Petroleum Hub Project, a large-scale initiative that includes the construction of three new refineries as part of a three-phase project aiming to significantly reduce Ghana’s reliance on imported refined fuels.” What is Nigeria as a country building? Do not bother to check. If you check, what you will find is 2027.
Back to the feuding Dangote refinery and its union of workers. Negotiation and bargaining and agreeing (rather than stone-throwing) are key in human transactions. In his ‘Bargaining and War’, R. Harrison Wagner notes that “nearly all wars end not because the (feuding parties) are incapable of further fighting but because they agree to stop.”
It is sweet to fight and win. But that is where it ends. The one who killed an elephant with his hat enjoyed the fame for just 24 hours. The next day, everyone avoided him. Enough of unhelpful tough talking and disruptions. As I watch the drama of this oily war, I see the two entitled camps unravelling. I see both sides losing ultimately. But their loss will be our loss, a disaster. The country will grind to a halt.
So, I ask the oily fighters in Lagos to read Khalil Gibran’s ‘The Two Cages’: “In my father’s garden there are two cages. In one is a lion, which my father’s slaves brought from the desert of Ninavah; in the other is a songless sparrow. Every day at dawn, the sparrow calls to the lion, ‘Good morrow to thee, brother prisoner.’”
There is no winner in this war.
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OPINION: Hobbes, Nigeria, And Sarkozy

By Lasisi Olagunju
In the early 1940s, Sir Ahmadu Bello, the hugely popular Sardauna of Sokoto, found himself at a crossroads of politics and rivalry. After losing the contest for the Sultanate of Sokoto to his long-standing rival, Sir Abubakar III, he was appointed emirate councillor and superordinate district head of Gusau in Sokoto Province. The posting, however, came with what he would later describe in his autobiography as “not lacking dark undertones and hidden motives.”
The shadow over his new position darkened in 1943. One day in the afternoon, a friend arrived with a troubling warning: Bello’s enemies were plotting his fall.
The man said: “Look, a plot is being arranged against you, so that you will fall into an inescapable trap.”
“What sort of a plot?” Ahmadu Bello said he asked the friend. He went on to say that “people were being organised to lay complaints against me so that I would be involved in a court case. I replied, ‘Tawakkaltu Alal Haiyil Lazi Layamutu (I depend on the Soul that never dies).’ A week later, I heard some Fulani (herdsmen) were being told to say that they paid cattle tax to me which never went into the treasury.” He was also accused of accepting gifts. The allegations quickly became a weapon in the hands of his rival, the Sultan. “After necessary investigations by an instigated administrative officer who was specially sent for the purpose, I was summoned to appear before the Sultan’s Court. I was tried and sentenced to one year’s imprisonment.” Bello recalled in his autobiography years later: “Knowing my own reputation and standards and the way the case was tried, I appealed to the Appeal Court. The learned Judge (Mr. Ames), with two Muslim jurists, allowed my appeal and I was therefore acquitted.”
He got back his freedom; but that experience signposted an example of what politics could throw at any of its practitioners no matter the height of their standing. Bello’s experience was an early taste of the trials and political intrigues that would mark his rise to prominence in the years ahead. Read ‘My Life’, Sardauna’s autobiography. Read ‘Ahmadu Bello: Sardauna of Sokoto’ by John N. Paden, page 119. Read Chapter 2 of Steven Pierce’s ‘Moral Economies of Corruption.’
You saw what happened in France last week. Seventy-year-old Nicolas Sarkozy was sentenced to five years in prison by a Paris court. There is a lot of fun in watching tragedies. Some courts are crazy. The man they jailed was the Commander-in-Chief of a super power. He wielded veto powers at the United Nations and rubbed shoulders with the president of the Almighty United States. He did not kill, he did not rape. Even if he killed and raped, didn’t he have everlasting immunity from being treated like a common commoner? His crime was not even looting of his country’s treasury. His sin was criminal conspiracy in a scheme to secure campaign funds from the late Libyan dictator, Muammar Gaddafi. What kind of crime was that?
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Reuters reported that “the presiding judge said there was no proof Sarkozy made such a deal with Gaddafi, nor that money that was sent from Libya reached Sarkozy’s campaign coffers, even if the timing was “compatible” and the paths the money went through were “very opaque”. But she (the judge) said Sarkozy was guilty of criminal conspiracy for having let close aides get in touch with people in Libya to try and obtain campaign financing.”
Why would the president of a first world country be so broke as to go to North Africa for a bailout? The central bank of France is called the Banque de France (Bank of France). Don’t they print money there? Wasn’t Sarkozy the one who reappointed Christian Noyer as the governor of that bank? So, what happened that Noyer allowed his benefactor to be that exposed and hard pressed that he had to go beg Ghadafi, the ultimate sinner, for campaign funds? What is even bad in collecting money, even from Satan? What kind of law and judicial system did that to a benefactor of their country?
Sarkozy should have been a Nigerian. If he were a Nigerian, our courts would have scolded the prosecutor for being rude to a father of the nation. We would have told him sorry and compensated him with a comeback from retirement and a third term.
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Nigeria can never be France. A country where people love life and fear death more than they fear hell is a doomed state. Nigeria is caught in that loop. We have long abandoned the fear of sin and hellfire. We mock morality, twist God’s words, and purchase prayers to sanctify our iniquities. Yet, while trampling on conscience, we go to great lengths to stay alive. We act with impunity, but move about with convoys of armed men so we may live to enjoy the spoils of our recklessness. We wreck healthcare at home and pile money into hospitals abroad against the day when sickness comes calling. We sin, we revel, and we rock the world. We move freely with sinful steeze without consequence, without judgment. Sarkozy should have been a Nigerian; he would have been saved the insult of that Paris trial and conviction.
I am not the originator of the contrast between fearing death and fearing hell. A man called Thomas Hobbes saw it centuries ago and wrote it down. Hobbes lived from 5 April 1588 to 4 December 1679. At his death he was described as “greater in his foes than in his followers.” He is the same man who, in his social contract book ‘Leviathan’, famously declared that without law and order, life collapses into fear and violence; and, in his words, it becomes “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”
Times change, people change. Hobbes observed that in his own age the fear of hell outweighed the fear of violent death. Religion then carried such weight that eternal damnation was a stronger restraint on conduct than the threat of sword or sentence. Men trembled more at the thought of sinning against God’s commandment than at the prospect of breaking the law. Religion and politics worked hand in hand to uphold order.
But that was Hobbes’s time. Today, the opposite holds sway. And that inversion explains the brazenness of misbehaviour around us. When men cease to fear God, and hell (the consequence of sin), they also cease to fear what the Yoruba call Atubotan; they disdain legacy, and numb conscience. Their only terror is not afterlife; it is just death, and, maybe, poverty and loss of privilege. And so, to prolong their lives and cling to power, they kill, they silence critics, they loot without restraint. The loss of a soul is, to them, an abstraction; but the loss of office and privileges is real, immediate, unbearable.
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I go back to Hobbes; he was right: fear shapes society. But when the wrong fear governs, politics mutates into predation, and the polity collapses into a jungle. Nigeria suffers that fate. We are ruled by men who worship power and fear coffins more than they fear God. Until that fear is reordered, until conscience returns as a brake on ambition, no constitution or law will be strong enough to restrain leaders who no longer believe that God is watching.
Back to Sarkozy, Western media described his fate as “a historic moment for modern France”, a nation where politicians, until last week sinned while sneering at the idea of punishment. The media said Sarkozy, who served as president between 2007 and 2012, was known for his hard line on immigration and national identity, and for championing harsher punishments for offenders. He must now prepare to face the same fate. Judges ruled that within months he will report to prison, making him the first former French president in modern history ordered to serve time behind bars.
It was, as The Guardian of UK put it, “a spectacular downfall and a turning point” in France’s struggle to deal with graft and political impunity. Sarkozy sat in court flanked by his wife, Carla Bruni Sarkozy, and his three sons as judges delivered a sentence laced with a message: Thomas Fuller’s words of almost four hundred years ago, “Be ye never so high, the law is above you.”
France has shown that even the mighty can crumble under the weight of justice. Nigeria, by contrast, keeps teaching its politicians that what sin has is not consequence but reward. Until our courts can frighten the powerful as much as our cemeteries do, Hobbes’s warning will remain our reality: life in this jungle will stay poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
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Doctor Shares 8 Simple Tips To Protect Your Heart

As Nigerians join the rest of the world to mark World Heart Day today, an internal medicine physician, Dr Olusina Ajihahun, has advised everyone to adopt healthier habits that will protect the heart and reduce the rising cases of hypertension, stroke, and heart disease in the country.
Ajihahun explained that many people only think of their heart when sickness strikes, but preventive care is more effective and cheaper than treatment.
He stressed that simple lifestyle changes could go a long way in keeping the heart strong.
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Here are eight heart-healthy tips he recommended:
Check your blood pressure regularly
High blood pressure is called a “silent killer” because it often shows no symptoms. Regular checks help you detect problems early.
Reduce salt intake
Too much salt raises blood pressure. Ajihahun advised Nigerians to reduce seasoning cubes and processed foods that contain hidden sodium.
Cut alcohol
Excessive alcohol weakens the heart muscles and raises blood pressure. He said moderation or total avoidance is best.
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Avoid smoking
Smoking damages blood vessels and reduces oxygen flow, making the heart work harder. Quitting protects both the lungs and the heart.
Exercise often
At least 30 minutes of brisk walking five times a week strengthens the heart, improves circulation, and reduces stress.
Take your medication as prescribed
For those already on drugs for blood pressure, diabetes, or cholesterol, Ajihahun stressed the importance of strict adherence. Skipping doses increases risks.
READ ALSO:How To Escape 80% Heart-related Diseases -NHF
Don’t miss routine health checks
Regular visits to the doctor help track heart health and detect early warning signs.
Eat healthy
A diet rich in vegetables, fruits, whole grains, fish, and nuts is vital for long-term heart health. He advised cutting down fried foods and fizzy drinks.
Ajihahun urged Nigerians not to wait until complications set in before caring for their hearts. “Your heart works every second of your life. The least you can do is protect it with small, consistent actions,” he said.
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