immigration ikhona?

we always meet on the street at night. we give each other a few words that never end up as a conversation. I hand over a few ciggies... that is all i can offer.

on the other side of this brick wall aka documentary, is the 'urban force', they can offer more. these exceptional people that i basically just follow around are passionate about their operation and our inner city. But some nights, as with tiny, they fail me. i say 'me' cause i guess i have become just as much a part of this operation as any other individual.

from congo to jeppe street, tiny smokes my ciggies, but human development (part of the urban force) discard him as i would my cigarette butt. Throwing him from jeppe to immigration - no eye contact...he is left AGAIN, they think he is a tokoloshi. all he repeats as he stares at me is "i miss you"...not me...but someone

beautiful face

hope

as i go into the streets every day to document
i wonder...
is it the feel in this place?
...the smell...the people i meet...
my heart races accompanied by a magic smile...
sometimes my heart stops, and i weep in situations...with a reserved opinion

"don't interfere"

when do i stop documenting and interfere?

but i know there is hope...in this City
i will always love Jozi