Scott MacLeod

Rumor has it Scott MacLeod types his feeble poetry, scratches out his childish drawings and glues his clumsy collages while seated demurely at his bedside, in a two-bedroom suite in a poorly-constructed brutalist concrete "hotel" with a view of the brackish orange waters of Lagos harbor. Rusting oil-drilling platforms dot his horizon like ravens on a wire. Like peppercorns on custard.

Born in the dank bowels of the Angolan Embassy on the Isle of Man, he is almost 64 years old, a citizen of Romania by his teenage birth-mother’s heritage, and of South Africa by virtue of the tenacious spermatozoa of his vicious and dissolute father.

Officially, Scott is a resident of Dubai UAE, where he is a merchant, diplomat, surfictionist and member of the boards of several international banking cabals. But because of medical complications during a business visit, he has been here for the last nine months, prisoner of his failing body, trapped without a Zagat-rating in substandard quarters in Lagos, Nigeria - city of the doomed.
 
 
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