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?
1 comment:
What is that hanging next to the brush? It looks like a wooden paddle (for beatings)! I absolutely love that quote. So true. That's a keeper.
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