Complicity
twelve reflections on street living
Phezula! and he's running with the genius of bravado...
2: The Corruption Of My Understanding
Hands locked behind our heads we are sitting on the cold concrete floor in front of each others laps...
3: A Short History Of Mob Justice
She dies amongst the lush tall green grass and the trash of an unclaimed urban pathway winding cramped between two buildings...
By the swimming pool park, at the far crossroads, looking at the street names, today's using buddy says, “Who was Percy Osborne anyway?”
He arrived back beaten. It was obvious the beating was fake.
From the crisp cavern of the last of the stars I am woken with half a mug of semi warm sweet black tea.
Quartz Street is cut in half by Highpoint. A husk of an apartment building atop a husk of a shopping centre, with a supermarket that is incredibly easy to shoplift from -if, like me, you are white.
8: The Rehabilitation Of Necessity
He escapes from the clinic. Weeks of complaining about his feet, aching, sore to walk on, walking around the rehab wincing.
He leaves the rehab fat and full of confidence. He is afraid of disappointing his mother.
She winds down her window.
“You need your bath.”
The first mission is in motion before dawn, in the cold damp hours steaming from blankets and pallets, they head out into the mines...
“For the first time in human history, a simple program has proven effective in the lives of many addicts.” –NA Preamble, “What is the NA Program”
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