Mossel Bay. Then Cape Town, the fairest Cape.
I hesitate, looking for an excuse not to leave, not to begin.
Then Ronelle, standing in her kitchen making a salad, spurs me on by giving me perspective:
"The stable tires the horse more than the road," she says, with her beautiful blue eyes boring into my soul.
The house is 83 years old. What age will I be when I die?