On My Way to Work

The walk to my job takes me about 15-20 minutes in the mornings. The road stretches from my front gate straight to where I work. First crisscross through the traffic, people hurrying to where they need to be, I notice the shops all starting to open up, the car guards (because what is a South African parking space without one?), the street children still hanging around like they never leave. Then the isle of construction. about two blocks of dust and rubble and workers in hard hats all warmed up and working long since I first opened my eyes in bed.

The walk to my job takes me about 15-20 minutes in the mornings. The road stretches from my front gate straight to where I work. First, I crisscross through the traffic, people hurrying to where they need to be, I notice the shops all starting to open up, the car guards (because what is a South African parking space without one?), the street children still hanging around like they never leave. Then the isle of construction. About two blocks of dust and rubble and workers in hard hats all warmed up and working long since I first opened my eyes in bed. I enter the dust filled dome-like stretch trying to keep my feet clear of the fine grains only too eager to stick to my shoes…and then today, this woman walks in front of me. She is pushing what seems to be a confection stand covered with old withered material. At first I thought, clever girl. See an opportunity to make some money, grab it head on. But no, as I passed her I noted that the stand was empty. Not a thing, the holes in the cover peeked in at empty shelves. Why was she pushing her empty trolley through this wasteland of construction, who the fuck knows?

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