you're blinded from the start

starfish and sea snails on the beach - an ambiguous feature of wherever you are, right next to the chain of pizza restaurants and european surf shops imported from iceland? but the constant reminder of the pier, not any pier but this pier, with the dozens of folks reppin melanin and fishing poles catching galjoen and other species remote to the sandy beaches of Durban, probably to sell in shwarmee and samosas for a few cents in the market (after they've sat warm for a few hours) to unsuspecting tourists from johannesburg and gaborone. and as much as they try to remain inconspicuous in their unimposing role, their existence is my vitality. my reminder that thousands of miles away from home im not in the same evironment; the streets do hold their own mystique, money doesn't sit in every pocket, the hand still goes straight to mouth (after the shop is closed and the street is swept with the branch of the palm tree) not after the ipod is in the pocket and italian leather wallet is in the vest.

but then walk up three blocks, and you rationalize the other way. yea there's 18 sweaty people in a van - but they're not walking 5 miles barefoot everyday. they have to have steel bars over the smallest of windows - but they're still making a living. its a table on the side of the road with sweets sprawled across its top - but the cost of living is so low that just a few sold will buy a chicken curry pie, the streets are filthy but the water is clean, most of the shantytowns at least have electricity, the white kids are racist but they must be at least aware of whose labor they're living off of, the escort services are more than escort services - but there are 'safe abortion' advertisements on every street pole ((WTF?!) the baby won't get aids but the women still will), im a foreigner but at least im not trying to exploit, i cant recycle a can but the world cup's coming - and with it international standards, she cries for a couple of rand for her child - but their are poor mothers in NY too, im guilty of privelege - but i have been for the last 19 years...

it's unnatural. you can't cope. you can observe, and analyze, and read books about what can be done, and talk to the authors that are writing them, and you can walk the streets of the neighborhood and eat your meal on the side of the road or from the fast food restaurant and you're a nuisance just the same. but as soon as you are reminded of that fact, and it doesn't leave you after a night of booze and sleep, then you are destined to have your legacy already defined...so you find a way to cope, to vent on a blog, or to think of inspirational quotes that help you to keep typing, and trying, and wondering, and hoping, and believing more and more until the future is once again yet to be defined and reality is malleable, and hope is constant. and hope is constant.