Oh man it’s spring in Africa. It’s hot again and the garden is full of greens and colour.
Spring brings with it Thirst among many other, dare I whisper, ‘pleasurable things’ – after the dry winter eternity of about three months of pure cloudless sunshine.
Decadence now stares me in the face every time I open the fridge and see another ice-cold bottle of white wine as if to say, “You are complaining about your life bru?”
“Brother, ‘No,’ I have converted Nothing into gratitude and not a syllable of moan shall cross my lips ever again!”