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A walk in Gramercy Park

A walk in Gramercy Park

She had me at: “...A lot of what I’ve been thinking about on my own personal journey is kind of how much we contort and conform and adjust ourselves all the time. With the best of intentions, by the way. It’s from the most beautiful place. We want people to...
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Obligated to do the work

Obligated to do the work

Despite my having retired* from writing, I have committed to writing something for the site every week day of this month. All the content creation “experts” advise to bulk up and make batches of work that you can schedule to publish. That doesn’t resonate with me. So, I’ve been allowing...
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I NEED YOU TO…

I NEED YOU TO…

Our house is the Johannesburg HQ of Tobe Nwigwe standom. The only reason my Dude isn’t the worldwide president is because we don’t have #getTWISTEDsundays. You see us. We keep our hair short for the most part so we’re not twisting anything. Maybe we can call Dude the vice president...
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Update: I have a seat at the table

Update: I have a seat at the table

At the beginning of May, I wrote a post titled: A Year Later: 5 Things I’ve Learned Since Quitting My Job. Number 3 of those 5 things was deceptively simple: I learned that I needed my own work area. I wrote that I needed a desk, a cute chair and...
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Everything you’ve heard about Pheko is true

Everything you’ve heard about Pheko is true

It’s common for people to wax lyrical about someone who has passed. You know, not speaking ill of the dead and whatnot. But, if everything you’ve heard or read about Pheko Kgengoe since we lost him to the coronavirus this week seems really good, you can trust it.    It’s...
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Prince, pessimism and protest songs

Prince, pessimism and protest songs

Yesterday was Prince’s birthday.  A mononym. A master. A maverick. Today is the day I logged into my emails to find that the letter I wrote to the Military Ombudsman was returned with an “address not found” error message. I was hoping to find, instead, an acknowledgement of my email...
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Gymnasts, judging and justice

Gymnasts, judging and justice

The stretch of yellow is what catches my eye. Like a boomerang in mid-air. Or a pair of wings. I stop typing the address into the WeTransfer email bar and look at the image next to it. It’s a painting of a gymnast in a custard-coloured leotard with her arms...
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