Monday, 21 November 2011


Party in the park. Everyone is enjoying the pick-nick but the sky is clouding over and it seems like a good idea to at least pack some of our things back in the cars.

Later on the sky breaks and it is pissing. We head for the cars and people go their separate ways. I am afraid and can almost not see. The girl I have to drop off at home is japping on about her boyfriend troubles and when he will come fetch her and bla bla bla. She is not sober and repeating herself - I have heard the story numerous times this afternoon already. So, I don't listen. It is wet, the streets are flooding and it feels like I am riding on an orca, not in a car. When I can finally boot her out, I turn the Jezabels up and focus on the road. Hitting the highway is hard because the robot is out. Also, there is a bus stranded in the middle lane and its warning lights aren't on. 

The droplets seems like little ghostly feet running away from me. Everytime I cross under a bridge there is a moment of calm from the heavy rain hitting the car, and a black strip of asphalt. The next instant the tiny feet are back again, scurrying away from me. 

Even though I have driven this road about twice a day for the last three years, the familiar is scary now.

* the title means "wet like soup" in Afrikaans.

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