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| Plumstead, South Africa, 1991
In the part where I lived the streets would almost disappear at night, beneath a brownish layer of cockroaches. Some had found a home in my bed- room/lounge, scurrying in the cupboard, behind the black and white portable tv, or somewhere underneath the retired springs of my bed. Then one day I dropped the last cup of a set of four. It shattered into many bits and two cockroaches, mating. I moved out. The majority of the roaches stayed. I saw a few wandering through the car I had borrowed, probably realising that they had made a big mistake. That my brown outfit was not a whole lot of roaches moving out. |