Behind me, on the other side of my house you can see the mountain from the side,
but not the table part that we know Cape Town by.
When he saw me at the bar, he (all the way from Joburg), he said "God! What are you
doing here? Why in Cape Town?" I said I didn't know. Said I often feel like I tripped
on something, got up off the floor, looked up and saw the sides of the mountain, the
slopes, the amazing clouds pouring over it like some tsunami and the bright summer
street in front of me. He said, write what you need to write and then leave Cape
Town. Said it like it was a cursed place. Cursed in a hidden way beneath all the
beauty.
That night I crawled from bar to bar until early in the morning. I lost my lighter in one
bar, picked it up off the floor of another, lost it again and then found it in someone's
hand lighting my cigarette.
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