#dropboxdiaries

[thenorthographer]

Children of a lesser God

[thenorthographer]

Maybe

So ive learned, that maybe it was never about growing old with someone. Never about building a house with many rooms and painting it all the colors of the rainbow. Never about a garden that rotates between four seasons. Never about the misty color the water makes when your turn on the sprinklers. That maybe all life is about, is to fill up a bookshelf with pages. People. And places and things. A Life between borders. A collection of passports with different colored stamps. That maybe all Life is about, is 35 mm photograph memories displayed on the walls of your heart, and the special ones framed in gold. That maybe all Life is about, is a cup of coffee with a stranger, a 33 minute sidewalk serenade with another. That maybe all Life is about, is random conversations, train tracks and stations. Sad scars and unreachable destinations. That maybe all Life is about, is a plane ticket to anywhere. Smiles you want to keep forever. And tears too. That maybe all life about, is the lyrics and words you write, and hope someone will read or listen. That maybe all Life is about, is not growing old with someone. Not building a house or a four season garden. But rather leaving many people behind. To tell others of you. To tell them your story…

[thenorthographer]

It's

It's not the want. Its the journey. The want finds itself...

Matter and Space

The northographer ©

4/4/2018

[thenorthographer]

Sidewalk serenade

Perhaps there are no beautiful destinations or terminals for the heart.

Maybe the places we go and the people we meet were never more than longitudes and latitudes of coincidence or chance, mapped out long before the bodies met; 

The man on the bus. The old woman missing her husband at sunset, the little girl in the flower market or the good doctor with the golden heart. 

Maybe it was just a time paradox creating events still to come. Maybe it was never about arriving but always searching for the port. 

Maybe it was the words you could never find. Maybe it was the chapter untold. Maybe the same matter should not occupy the same space. Maybe it was the waterfall crash from which you won’t wade. 

Maybe the search for hope was just coincidence or by chance…or a once off sidewalk serenade.. 

Michael Botha

The northographer ©

19/3/2018

[thenorthographer]

Bonjour je suis Mugenzi. Je serai voter pilot cet apres midi” With little sleep the past few days I answer hurriedly “Como estas Senhor” Blank face…Oh umm je suis michael..umm comet etes vous Mugenzi. He smiles and switches to English. He explains that its his two minute smile everyday. French to a foreigner in a another country. “Je vais voyeger et rencontre des gens dans Kivu. Mugenzi smiles and says “You are no foreigner sir” He asks if I know someone from Rwanda. I say yes. I do. He asked which village they are from? Its her Rwanda, I answered, she’s everywhere. He smiled, as did I.. “nous serons dan le Kivu par le coucer du soleil” Make it so my friend.