Every night as I cycle through Woodstock from the city to my new home, I notice that a piece of light has been chipped off the day; that they're getting, noticeably, shorter.
I'm not really sure how I feel about that though. Sometimes I'm ecstatic about the rain and moisture and moodiness that comes with winter. On the other hand I remember that I'm on a bicycle or dependent on public transport; so its just that it's the unknown and I'm not yet sure how it's all going to work out.
I love my journeys across the city, I love being on my bicycle: Almost every time I take a different route and open myself to the city opening itself up to me. The layers are peeled off.
I'm exposed to a real city, not the tip of the iceberg of perfect places that have been airbrushed for travel magazines, websites and glossy brochures, the Cape Town that is pimped to the rest of the world.
It's this gritty, real city that I'm growing to love and appreciate.
The photo, taken from my balcony, is of the corner of Table Mountain and Lion's Head to its right; the sun has set into the Atlantic and Woodstock has begun to be lit up.