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| Your kitchen. The sights and sounds that came from here... Baking smells dancing in the tunnels of my nose. On the contrary, I know you would not sugar-coat and ice my life issues right now. Short(bread) and sweet and to the point. I need that. Still. |
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| Redness of your silent stoep. Redness of your unharvested grapes. Redness of rich wisdom from your lips. Redness of my heart. Bleeding love for you. Still. |
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| You don't know this guy. But I'm sure he'd irritate the hell outta you. "Fo'tsek". Still. An short ode to a matriarch. My gran. Emmah Thokozile Hlongwane |
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