February 17, 2016 by petrujviljoen
Sitting on the balcony on a Sunday afternoon. Quiet, peaceful, rocked gently by the rumble of the occasional train going by. The tremors were felt even in the courtyard. One was on a perpetual journey. Kinetics, movement.
Sitting on the balcony, so quiet the mice came out to play on the pavement. They did! Chasing each other, no other purpose for being out. It prompted a little story I wrote: The Mouse, the Owl and the Snake.
Sitting on the balcony, towards five o’clock, leaving the door open, going in to make tea or fetch a beer, can’t remember which, coming back out a ruckus: a guy coming from Nugget Street grabbed a vendor’s purse lying on her trestle table: she turned her back to pack up her wares. He didn’t get far. The taxi drivers grabbed him, gave him a klap or two, stripped him naked, got the woman’s…
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