Cape Tag

And there it was. The strange machine of talking to myself. Within the black and white photograph, I appeared as any stranger would. Dazed, worldly, beautiful and dazzling. The silence was magnificent as any silence was at the moment of yr in South Africa. I repeat myself. Forget if those words were a part of an essay, prose, haiku or poetry. Rain. It's purity lit up. An emblem. The veil lifted up. Humanity lit up, lifted up in a way. As cold as ice. Plums stored within the refrigerator. Whatever was stolen is that this. Birdsong, foot stomping on the steps by children scribbling within the air, the celebrities’ survival, the change in climate but you see I don't...