In the restless streets of Lagos, where horns argue with silence and hope wrestles with reality, a poster rose one morning like a question no one was ready to answer.
It wasn’t just ink on fabric.
It was a confrontation.
“Is ₦216 to $1 okay? It’s time to speak out!”
People slowed down.
Keke riders leaned forward.
Market women paused mid-bargain.
Even the ever-busy danfo conductors stole glances.
The symbol of All Progressives Congress stood boldly beneath the message, alongside the familiar faces of Muhammadu Buhari and Yemi Osinbajo—smiling, composed, almost untouched by the weight of the question hanging above them.
But the street… the street felt different.
A young man muttered, “Wasn’t this the same ‘change’ we believed in?”
An older woman shook her head slowly, her wrapper tied tighter as if holding back years of disappointment.
A group of youths gathered, debating, voices rising—some defending, others accusing.
The poster didn’t shout.
It didn’t need to.
It whispered truths people had buried under survival.
“CHANGE,” it read boldly—but now, that word felt heavier. Not a promise, but a memory. Not hope, but a mirror.
By evening, photos of the poster had traveled far beyond that street—shared across phones, discussed in buses, dissected in quiet corners. It became more than a campaign relic; it became a symbol of reflection.
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