Mango stones, white, smushed on the ground. Stones so sucked on and dry that it almost hurts to look at them. And many of them. Purple jacaranda petals. The couple on the corner selling peanuts is laughing with a friend. Lots of people on the street at the end of the day, the clouds all turning pink. There is a gigantic mushroom-shaped cloud north of the city, or maybe it’s more like Eraserhead shaped. Turning all pink. I would like to be able to stay and watch the cloud go dark. Lots of movement on the main street. Some kids playing, jumping from a bench onto the metal bar on the bottom of a billboard (Vodacom “Ish, Yowê“), swinging back and forth and laughing. Everything seems so normal, so calm, but I cannot seem to feel these moments. Feel that they are mine too.