Light up. Take a see-through plastic container, any old thing around the house. Find yourself a willing participant to this charade and proceed to cover said participant with the container.
By this time you will need to light up again. Take that first breath of fresh air, so lovingly filtered for you, and let it slip in under the door of your participant’s new home. Keep going till the plastic loses its translucence.
Now if you could zoom in, past the plastic, past the ash particles floating around, right down there at the bottom you will find a little place I like to call home. Yes, it's that time of the year again. Time for nothing in this little bubble to change. Time for the leaves to stay the same colour and the birds to fly around in circles.
Every day I race my tractor through these streets it dawns on me that I'm functioning inside the western upper-middle class version of a Middle Eastern electronics store in the states. Read that again.
We dream so big that we verge on never waking up.
Hi Stellenbosch, Flipi doesn't hate you.
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