I am driving on my scooter through town early Friday morning, pushing past Lockdown traffic through a densely populated city centre. The sun is too slowly, labouriously spreading itself over the city. Winter is palpable. I have to lift the shield of my helmet, letting the cold sweep in because my breath keeps fogging up my view. As I wait for the traffic light to turn green, I watch people packing up damp blankets, brushing their hair, relieving themselves against walls. It's a sad sight, I am sad. A homeless man, watching me watching the world, in Afrikaans shouts in my direction "Why do you look so grumpy!? It's Friday!". Embarrassed, I laugh. He laughs. We laugh. A brief interaction, just until the lights turn green and the traffic pushes me into the day.
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