The Yearning

Most English teachers will tell you how difficult it is to read for pleasure. Literature is work, something we read to find deeper meaning and even simpler ways to convey thay which encounter.

How refreshing it is to find a novel that engrosses you; a truly engaging, beautiful and authentically South African story. Every page was worth the read and it was bittersweet to put it down at the end.

Advertisements

Sleep(less)

image

She could hear her own heart beating in her ears, the silence ringing in the room. She had read the endless novel about the sad old man that normally helped lure sleep to her. She felt her eyes burn- just hours ago they were teasingly heavy with the promise of the sweetest dreams, now they burn, frustrated at a vow broken. It is 23:58 and sleep is nowhere to be found…

I don’t Lick It

image

The Lick is the one thing that is not getting better. My warm up pattern is more comfortable and so are my scales but the lick is refusing!

The more it refuses the less I practise it. The less I practise it the more it refuses. What a vicious cycle…

image

I hate monotomy. But it begins tomorrow. The red abyss will dictate my every move for the next 3 weeks. Mr Elephant used to help with that. He used to break the sameness… now he’s gone…

But I must keep licking and ticking, because life goes on and does not wait for you to pick yourself up…

I better get some sleep… 2 exams are dropping in my lap in the morning…

We Have to Stop Meeting Like This

“Love is really nothing but a dream that keeps waking me” -John Mayer

image

Love once came to me through the trees. It was a fleeting ray of light through the leaves. I was lucky to catch a glimpse of it – lucky to capture it with my amateur lense. “I am fickle”, it whispered to me.

Of course, I paid no mind to its message. Of course, I thought I knew better….

image

After many years of crossing paths with Love in fickle and fleeting ways,I gave up on  it – walked away from it because though our paths intertwined, they never merged into one. But Love continued to seek me out. I found it, this time, abandoned but no longer fluid. I was suprised to have found it. I no longer knew what it felt like, but when our eyes met, we recognised each other….

image

Sometimes Love is an accident. It is spilled paint on a tiled floor and can go by unnoticed by eyes unpeeled. It catches you off guard, when you have done everything in your power to guard against it. It melts down your defenses and you are rendered…. helpless.

image

Love is solid. It is constant and it is beautiful and more remarkably, it is accessible – even to me.