… ons vir jou?

As we sat there, eating our salmon sashimi in one of the most unlikely restaurants, the conversation thankfully turned from judicial enquiry to strangers walking past in a crowded shopping centre, and one handsome stranger from the past that we both had in common. Best remembered as an absent friend who had been responsible for our introduction and subsequent lifelong enduring friendship between us. Every so often, I find myself doing something and my mind wonders to memories of him, and similar moments shared, and wonder if he ever found the happiness he wanted.

One of those typical Afrikaner Brahman, (yes a recurring theme that seems to capture my imagination) he was a SAP procurement specialist on a consortium project we were both working on at the time in the hallowed halls of government. It took a while, but in a few weeks of working together, we found reasons to spend time together rather than alone at our desks and in that time we discovered we actually had things in common despite disagreeing on everything else. Most notably our passion for passion and the things that it brings to those seeking something more than what they have.

Slow at first but then almost immediate the distance between us was wedged apart inch by inch; the cracks that time and circumstance had weathered became the abyss that we fell in to. He transferred to another project and I remained and although we kept in touch there would be no more ice cream at lunchtime as we sat on the grass beneath the leaping bronzed statues of the Oppenheimer fountain or antique shopping over the weekend for his beautifully restored home in Meuckelneck. Perhaps my appreciation and even romanticising of Sunday morning rituals was because of time spent with him and even though I had forgotten why, the who will always be there.

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