Escalating heart in a backpack
Today is Friday the 13th. Not that I am in any way superstitious. No, for me, this date has another kind of horror to it. I leave South Africa in just one month, which ironically is another Friday the 13th.
There are all kinds of denial.
I have shit loads of stuff that I will not be able to bring home.
Still, I keep buying. Like this quite heavy, but beautiful heart made from steel in different layers.
You hang up and when it spins in the wind
it looks like the centre of the heart is escalating
from the reflections of the sun.
Feels like my own heart. Feels like Cape Town.
All my pictures. Every single one, from my time in Cape Town might be lost. I had them in a folder on my external hard drive, which broke. I have had “back up photos” on my to do list for a long time but have not gotten round to it. In huge denial.
I do not have a job in Sweden when I get back. Or anywhere in the world. I have not applied for any either.
I am broke. But I find a bit of money here and there and somehow, it works out. But the fact is that I am living in a bubble which will burst the moment I step off the plane in cold grey lagom-land.
There is still so much that I want to do and see in this country but it feels like time is slipping through my fingers.
Tomorrow, I go on a journey by myself, along the famous Garden Route from Cape Town to Port Elizabeth. I will take buses since I am alone but it shouldn’t be too hard to catch a ride with someone if needed. I have an open schedule and all I know is that I have to catch a flight back from Port Elizabeth on Thursday morning. I will arrive at Cape Town airport 2 hours before my mom and her friend arrives from Sweden.
Then, it’s touring the city again, climbing the mountains, hitting the beaches, indulging in wonderful food and wine, road tripping to Cape Point and the winelands, living the good life.
Like there is no 13th of March.