I once left the city with someone I’d met two days earlier to go stay in the countryside, surrounded by woods, with basically zero plan. Genuinely one of the best times I’ve had. They turned out to be great people. Ten out of ten, no notes.
I took a train to Paris for a weekend because I refused to believe the hype. My friend swore Paris was magical and wanted to prove me wrong. Verdict: still not that impressed but that roundabout by the Arc de Triomphe genuinely scared me, and don’t even get me started on the price of a coffee.
I once stayed out all night and completely forgot that the next day was a holliday. Ended up walking two hours home. By the time I got there my legs had their own heartbeat.
My name I Borney Richardson, I was born and raised on this island. At 15, I left to further my education, to see the world, to learn.
And I learned a lot.
I studied design, immersed myself in media, and built a set of skills I knew one day I would bring back home. But somewhere along the way, I felt the connection to my roots, to my home, start to fade. So I came back to check on my family, to reconnect with where I come from.
It wasn’t easy. I was met with a lot of “well, this is how we do it here, so get used to it.” It felt strange, like I am no longer welcomed back home.
Today, I work in audiovisual media in radio, in television, behind a camera and behind a microphone. I am also actively training to become a journalist, driven by one conviction: the stories of this island deserve to be told with the same rigor, the same depth, and the same honesty as anywhere else in the world. Every event I cover, every person I speak to, every story I tell is part of that journey.
But I do a lot of things my own way, and I’ve come to realize something: it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to listen to me, without listening to you first.
So this is me reconnecting. Relearning. Re-experiencing the island I once called home, with new eyes.
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