0,0km/h

I am sinking into my chair, my head is floppy and my eyes are at half-mast. I have succumbed to chronic Durban-ness. I can barely tap the keyboard. I would pay someone to tap it for me, but that would mean going indoors to make a phone call or something, and I can’t be arsed. It is a wintery 26°, the air is slow, soft, barely there. Not much is going on. I went for a coffee, and half a swim. Neither can beat the slumber. I want to say conquer but that seems too much effort.

I saw a monkey a week ago, there by Burman Bush, he is still there, thinking about the road and when he will cross it. Maybe one day, he will take the leap. In Durban, you can be 48, and still living at home, thinking about that surf shop, coffee shop, DJ collective you always meant to open. That’s why I like Durban. Ambition is metered by lethargy. Change is what you do when you take off your board shorts and put on your smart shorts. Activity is a word found in the dictionary, not on the street. There is a stillness to purpose that Buddhist monks yearn for. If we could bottle it and sell it, we’d make millions, but who can be bothered with that?

I can hear the call to prayer wafting up the hill from across the race course, it is teatime. My wife and I used to talk about politics, the environment, the moral responsibility of individuals versus corporations and some other stuff. Now we talk about the virtues of homemade banana bread, toasted with butter. But ag, who really cares? If you are quiet enough, even a banana tree has something to say.