One day I will write about the sorcery amongst the women in my family. The dark, quiet secret with roots in a beat down and dry landscape in Port Elizabeth. Hoender voetjies en poeder en alles oor liefde and gebreekte harte.
It is a world my mother didn’t want me to be apart of and so ran away from it whilst I was growing in her belly. As much as one can run, your shadow follows you. It’s science, the way the earth spins on its axis, the way the sun wraps around it. As much as one can try to deny the laws of the universe, the secret passes through my mother, and thus through her veins into mine. The wife of an Imam saw it in me one day but I was too small to understand. As pragmatic as I am, as much as I believe ietsism to be a fallacy..it is days like these where I think there are dark threads that run through families that cannot be broken and grow the more you ignore them. Perhaps it is genetics. Perhaps its primitive instinct. Perhaps its an extreme sense of awareness matured through circumstance. Perhaps its self-fulfilled prophecies. Perhaps its magic and sorcery. Perhaps, and regardless, when I feel it, I know I must leave. I must leave quickly and I must leave abruptly as I see events unfold before me in the pit of my stomach. Lovers have called it running away. I call it the arch angel of my ancestor’s, Cerberus protecting the gates of that big, blood pumping thing in your chest.
Would be hugely appreciated if you could head over to my new website for a wander around and potentially spread the word if possible? :) Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed making it.
Link is in bio.
Many thanks in advance. John
10 3772 days ago
This product uses the Instagram API but is not endorsed or certified by Instagram. All Instagram™ logos and trademarks displayed on this application are property of Instagram