That little bit of H O P E 

Intoxicated on ideas and ambition. 
Waiting for an epiphany where all that I thought matters, starts to. 
I realised that it never will, as everything is really nothing. 
And nothing really matters. 
Hope – the bane of my existence, Pandora should have left that in the box. 
That little bit we cling to, that little bit we value, that little bit that could change the forsaken and the world, that little bit of Hope… 
It rejuvenates the meekness of an ever dull life, it promises of more and it slowly begins to deteriorate when all else is lost it is all that we have left. 
ar de abreu 
14 October 2017 
Namasté

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A glimpse into the life of a Legend

5 things about me: 

  1. I am South African. 
  2. I have a boyfriend (we’ve been together now for almost 7 years). 
  3. I’m a teacher (grade 2 and 3, not my passion, I enjoy teaching high school WAY more, but I’m waiting for the right opportunity).  
  4. I have two dogs (Dennis – a husky and Khaleesi – a golden labrador) whom I LOVE to death. They’re basically like my kids. 
  5. I enjoy reading, crocheting and writing (poetry and short stories). 

Reminiscent 

Cape Town, South Africa

A place that has encapsulated my soul and heart. I long for one more day along the shoreline; where I can feel the wind aimlessly, yet purposefully, carrying the scent of oceans. I can see the top of a mountain, roaring over place we call The Mothercity. I wish I were trapped in a moment where this could forever be a reality.

Namastè

Memories, captured in the lenses of cameras and souls.

Untitled

CHAPTER ONE

With one carefully calculated decision she had the world in the palm of her hand and no one to share it with.

She lay sunbathing, back from yet another shopping spree, tired from the endless search for the perfect gown for one more highly pretentious evening. Her husband was the billionaire who often divulged in expensive, tasteless gatherings with people whose existence she struggled to acknowledge. In reality he just turns their 5.2 billion dollar estate into a coke induced brothel. She struggles to remember when it all started; all she knows now is that she is stuck, in the middle of this big mess. Little did she know that shit was about to get a lot worse…

She rarely enjoyed evenings like this, but boy did she like getting ready for them. She always complained to Chris about hosting evenings like this, but she never complained about the limitless credit card she got to use at her disposal before such an event. The décor, the dress, Chris’s suite, the jewellery, the food and the music – all of that was her forte. The rest was up to Chris and his partners (how and why they got these things done was none of her business). “Honey, have you ordered the flowers we asked for?” she heard Chris call from the pool’s clubhouse as she turned on her back, exposing her $75 000 augmented, full C cup, breasts. “Yes,” she said with disdain in her voice, Chris didn’t seem to notice (he never does). “Thank you lovey, you look great by the way.” Chris loved the sight of his wife, glistening in the sun. She sighed, got up and noticed Kyle quickly finding another place to focus his eyes. A bit too obvious she thought and took the opportunity to speak with him about the rose bush he forgot to trim. She got up, slowly, kind of sensually. Kyle thought it was even a little seductive, but what did his 18 year old ass know? He’s only seen two pussies in his whole life, well three if you count his mother’s. “Kyle,” she said with her left breast touching his muscular right arm, “Honey, please do trim the rose bush today. We have guests coming by tonight.” Kyle panted and swallowed heavily whilst she noticed his manhood slowly erecting, not bad for an 18 year old she thought. “Yes mam, I’m on it mam,” he replied doing his best to keep eye contact. “Thank you Kyle dear,” and as she walked away: “Please, call me Yana.” She walked away knowing that his eyes were still on her back side, she did have a great back side, her personal trainer also tells her that. Well, what do you expect if you work out 3 hours every day? Well, 2 hours at least, the last hour is usually more like a cardio session.

“Yana!” she heard Sandy’s voice coming from the living room. “I’ll be down in five,” she yelled back; out of breath from running on the treadmill for 45 minutes. She finished up her jog, wiped away the sweat from her temples and took a gulp of water. She checked herself out in the floor to ceiling mirror, pouted a little and made her way out of the fully equipped home gym. On the second step which opened up into the large foyer she spotted Sandy with a delivery man at the door, they were chit chatting. “Thank you Sandy, I’ll take it from here,” Yana said as she waved Sandy away after taking the last step. “Delivery for Yana,” the dark haired man said struggling to keep eye contact. Yana was used to this by now. She placed her water bottle on the table in the foyer and eagerly signed the paper the man held out on the clipboard. “Thank you,” Yana held out her hands for the package. This must be the diamonds for the table dressing tonight. She told Havier (she read his name tag)  to wait and slowly opened the box just out of his view, to ensure that everything she ordered was in the box. One hundred of the finest diamonds the size of peas lay glistening in the box each in an individual little holder. “Perfect,” she said as she closed the door behind Havier. Now, the fun and games can begin as she was ready to prepare for a long night…

clouds

Aimlessly drifting above all that is wrong. 

Pouring down to try and save the souls, cleansing, renewing and creating. 

Warning the kind of approaching danger where alarms are ignored and civilisations ruined. 

Formations of awe inducing beauty, gathered in imaginative, picturesque scenes of wonder. 

Stars lie beyond them, and proof that there could be more lurks in them. 

Above them travellers stare, wandering to places of opportunity or the hopes thereof. 

Aimlessly drifting, 

Away… 

A R – 28/06/2017

📷 original pictures

Existentialisting

existentialist

  1. (n) a person who advocates the philosophical theory of existentialism
  2. (adj) relating to or supporting the philosophical theory of existentialism
  3. (v) (existenialisting) filling an empty vessel with ideas of the philosophical theory of existentialism

WELCOME to the story of my life… An everyday battle to find the reason(s) for my existence. A battle which requires specialized resources – poetry, coffee, an extreme love for anthropology and lyrics with harmonizing voices that advocate the search for more.

I look forward to sharing my experiences with you.

Namasté