I just wanted to stay warm in winter. What happened next confused me. Non-binary DJs at One Park keep offering to get me drinks on their tab and gatjies in Salt River have started to salute me. Taliep Petersen’s daughters signed over their father’s masters and Najwa Petersen is writing me letters from prison that sound like the type of thing you’d expect to hear from a bitter, love-scorned, ex-girlfriend. When I go to Miriam’s they usher me to the front of the queue and hand me a masala steak gatsby free of charge. Cut four ways. Extra braised onions. Half moons to go. I face east and I hear a call to prayer. I buy a coke and it tastes like Jive.
