I don’t actually know where I am at. I am feeling down yet at the same time lost. Today at Metrorail I am kept busy so busy that I didn’t have time to think yet the old trade unionist song keeps playing in my head. “My father was a garden boy, that is why I am a communist”. No don’t get me wrong I am no communist, the song is just catchy. The work and the ditty kept my mind off all my issues. It must have been cold outside because Sibongile came in all dressed for winter and a warm smile but that still did not distract my mind from the deep quagmire I find myself in.
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