Dear You

Yours if you can find me, and yours if you can’t...

Dear you,

In Durban once more, but this time is not like the last. Much of it has changed. Some parts for the better, and some parts for the worse. All as one would expect, a little good and a little bad, held in perfect though varied balance. It reminds me of the man I saw walking down the pier, balanced like the scales of justice. In one hand a small plastic bag of onions and in the other a larger plastic bag of bread rolls. All balanced, the left and the right, all keeping the equilibrium in check. What every warm day needs, a giant performing a belly flop and drenching those nearby; a dog absconding with a small child’s ice-cream, leaving but the cone; a little humorous shadow to cast on the light. A counterbalance to ensure stability. This is what ensures we neither float off untethered nor fall down low.

Yours if you can find me, and yours if you can’t,
X

(Postcard collage title: The Durban Flop.)

Part floral crown, part neon halo...

Dear you,

The art of play is not so fine. It is quite simple, really. And good for the soul, it surely is. From my claimed seat in the gardens, a camel crossed my path and momentarily made for itself a wigged pink hairpiece from the foliage behind. Part floral crown, part neon halo, the impression drew delight down deep to tickle my very once-cynical bones. Such passing visuals make me chortle to myself. A camel can become a crowned head of state, unbeknownst to itself, and a lion can sport a fantastical mane of geraniums and zinnias and other showy bright blooms. And there to my left, a mouse with a fantastical cape of flora sailing through the air! The longer I sit here, the more I see. Proof positive that much good comes from quietly meditating. Pondering over that which is before me and letting thoughts randomly form, I think I could sit all spring long in such a place.

Yours warming the cockles, and feeding the glee amidst the bluebells standing tall,
X

(Postcard collage title: Pink crowned glory.)

Squeezing in at first was hard, but I’ve found a place where I can hide by day...

Dear you,

Salvation comes in many forms and I believe I have found mine in the form of library’s quiet sanctuary and books and their knowledge they hold within. Squeezing in at first was hard, but I’ve found a place where I can hide by day and thus explore by night to free delight. Beneath the floorboards of Biology, I wait in curled up form. I wait for the library to empty of its librarians, students, time wasters, and the plain curious. I wait quietly, dozing in and out of consciousness. Come evening, I roam, I tumble, I roll, and I read. I even amend the texts of a few books in my field of particular knowledge. The dietary requirements of my kind are oft listed incorrectly. So, too, our social graces, or apparent lack thereof. So I ‘correct’ and retell history and her facts where rodents are concerned, and this, my good friend, this keeps me very busy indeed.

Yours sharpening pencils instead of claws,
X

(Postcard collage title: Seeking Entry.)