Monday, February 13, 2012

The beating heart


On our way back from Cape Point yesterday I stood on the brakes. Haemanthus sanguineus in a mown piece of veld beside the side of the road. Red expressions in the dry grass and young fern.


It is the heartsore day, now staring us full in the face, when I can barely look my mother in the eyes. I am best with no words. I do not want anything but the composure that makes it possible to leave. I turn inward and keep my own council. I can't wait to see Vince. I can't wait to get back to work. But it is given to me to inflict this pain.


Goodbye, Cape Town.
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