… under the bridge.

If Madonna and JT lived in Cape Town, and their watches were set to African Time, their 4-minutes would be more like 4-hours. And instead of saving the world they would be witness to one crumbling down around them. I can testify that in the space of 4-hours I embraced my hangover from the night before and decided that it was time to head back to Jo’burg a week earlier than anticipated. After a watershed collection of new contracts and advertisers, the sourness at the back of my throat wasn’t the bile from the night before (… yes sacrificing at the Bowl of Bacchus after a heavy night drinking!) but the petulant behaviour of an adult used to being the centre of attention.

And while it wasn’t worth losing a friend over, somewhere inside I realised that this is the change of the friendship anyway. Over the past few months I have seen his manoeuvrings and slowly her circle of friends is being replaced with his own equally spoiled dilatants. A closed circle who bolster his ego rather than support her needs as an individual. But in life we all make choices necessary to our circumstances and could never begrudge her changing priorities. I have adjusted my expectations accordingly and realise where our two roads were once similar, have now diverged in the Tokai forest. But, as I sat on the plane going home the same emotion I had for Cape Town has imperceptibly changed.

Perhaps that change is my own making as well? The restlessness that has been pervasive over the past few months has shifted to a sense of living on borrowed time. What that exactly means I’m unsure but it’s there … that any minute the piper is going to ask for his dues and I have not enough to pay him. I felt this as I lay in the arms of a software engineer after meeting at his offices’ drinks party a few hours before. While he was everything that I was looking for that night I couldn’t really find any pleasure in his sensuality. We lay there, talking about nothing and everything, just the timbre of his voice was enough to lull me into a deep sleep that lasted until just after nine the next morning.

As I stood in the shower, the hot water felt like Niagara Falls on my shoulders. Fair enough my gentle giant had spent a good few minutes massaging my neck in the shower before getting out to make us breakfast leaving me feeling lighter than I had felt in a long while. As I stood there I got to thinking how they say that opposites attract but they never say for how long. Should the relationship savvy person still stoke the fires of passion with the kindling of work and friends or should we simply be satisfied with a romance that sizzles? As I got into the waiting car I couldn’t help but wonder without sharing your worlds can even the hottest relationship stop cold?

But as soon as I landed my own reality came back to me and I was acutely aware that now is the time to act if I want this feeling to go away. I have a sense of where I want to be and so I find myself in transition again building on ruins of the past, except this time the foundations are more solid than mere words or promises that evaporate like the dew at the dawn. I’ve realised that in coming home to the middle of a Highveld winter, the warmest place is where there are people who love you. And while some love is enough, there is a certain kind that only a lover can give, and you can take. So like the blooms on a cherry tree, I am patient for that moment where I know Persepolis will be mine.

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