To Mr N, as he climbs into the car at 7.30am and meanders off to Pretoria for a couple of weeks.
To the Stilted crew, some of the coolest and kindest people I’ve ever worked with, as I pack up the set with you for the last time and we walk out with sweaty faces and sold out audiences for almost every show we did at the Festival.
To my digs which falls apart, as the two boys move out, one back home and one to another friend, both for financial reasons. As I’m left with two girls with whom I struggle to communicate. As I pack up my bags to head home to Durbs, and trust that I won’t come back here to a burgled shell.
To university, as I emit a sigh of relief…I passed all four subjects, two really well, the other two shamefully.
To the theatre as I walk away in awe of it all.
I am a swirling whirlpool of hurt pride, fear and confusion, passion, girlish excitement and neurotic busy-ness. I am, as always, in motion.