I have been distracted by grand ideas of trying to make money, rolling in nice cars, find a flaboyant crib that I could rent and show to her, that I have made it, I am paid, I am Ed. But I failed, because before that time, she knew the hardnock life, she knew the trife life, she has in the past wandered the streets of jozi, trying to find me at any club, in fact at the club. But, I never frequented the streets, I did not believe the dream was made of it.
But, lately, she told me to mind my thoughts because one of these days, she might die, and I might wake up with an ambition to follow the next line of words of nastradamus, she might not live for ever, she has lost friends notoriously. It lead to feuds, to war of words, to choosing sides, left, right, east, west, north, south, black, white, life, death. The aftermath was even more confusing, battles were fought without reason, between schemes, squad's, units, teams, till some switch labels, leaving Christopher dethroned.
I searched for her, I searched for soul, for depth, for tribal drums, that beat monotonously, in sequences of fours between snares in every second, a new dance is learnt, but I found myself not moving, not shaking, because she wasn't there, to seduce with me south, with dirty words, thrown between syllables, that lack consonants.
She is my soul, although she has at times sold herself to others in exchange for money, in exchange to mass acceptance, in exchange for appeal, I then thought she had lost her direction in pre-manufactured sequences of images blurring my vision, I remained motion-less.
But it was I that was lost, it was I who was not a true disciple, it was I who lost the intellectual capacity to understand what she was trying to do, what she was trying to make me understand, that she has a dream, that one day, I will return to her. It makes sense now, I am and I will always be with her, forever.
I love her.