You are but a story – I

​What do Oceans look like?

All the same unless you carry a story about one of them…

Objects are but stories.

We are but stories of thousands of other stories. Others might carry as many stories about us as we do.

Moving towards Robben Island… Robben meaning dutch for seal– found in good number here.


That’s who you are

​Can I not write a pretty sentence or two about you?

A drop of sweet water on the glittering sand

You, who vanishes in the air, dances in the sky, cherishes the fall before every stand

Yours is a breathtaking silence,  a roaring mum

Such a build-up before that easy thrum

Rain came by,  and you came next

We talk and as I see you finishing,  I have felt so much I didn’t know I had the capacity  to

A surprise you are that stuns my stance

All that superficial things that my skin feels

My skin feels only so much,  you know

Everyone’s, in fact


It’s that easy, that unimportant until you say you can make that fun
The palliation that we eventually stop picking from here and there

The sun around the dark houses that gleam and die

And you become the sun all day,  the moon of those nights when the mountains seem too high for the rays to climb down,  trees too dense to be pierced

You’re here,  like always,  standing on what you laughingly state is  your own will,  is your own style,  is your own whim

You’re too mad to be not silly