Of the five days in Queenstown:
Not one person begged for a 2 rand.
I saw an average of 1.5 white people walking the streets, per day.
One lady had really red hair.
I met Koos, who I will not forget in a long time.
A young Sangoma offered me black dust to strengthen my blood. I inhaled it.
The grass is mainly yellow.
The saddest river endures in Queenstown. Struggling to flow through the trash.
Three people skeefed me out. One eye went direct while the other was either discoloured or decided to go in a different direction.
A taxi driver thought I was from the traffic department as I took a photo of his cracked windscreen. I assured him I just liked the way it looked.
The goats don’t give a shit in Queenstown.