johannesburg inner city is nostalgic. gritted in stark memories. enormous empty high rise buildings silently speak of long nights in insecurity... the red ants have made their eviction marks - leaving only overcrowded scribbled poems on burnt bedroom walls... allowing for the most surreal and beautiful smokey parties in the bottom floors of abandoned hotels with good friends. best early hours jumping into cold swimming pools under moonlight... we drove a taxi into a ditch. argued with taxi bosses in police stations... slept in soweto listening to tales of how it was to live there years ago from mxolis father... painted a six story building in two days... walked the mass of chinese stores of market street... climbed a 16 story empty building to get the sunrise... and painted under a bridge in newtown... a cathedral of a home to about 60 of joburgs lost people... bedroom to the lowest economic spectrum of our society... now ive painted many areas that have left me startled but this place is just too much... joburg beer absorbed into the veins of the downtrodden children growing up with a reality so twisted... my heart was heavy from the energy there.... as we were leaving a guy with blood coming from his mouth is running from three men screaming. .. they trip him down kicking him .dragging him by his arm and leg up the gravel road... some kind of pole for hitting... my mind goes quite with noise.... today the lighting and thunder broke my heart by opening it up... there is no other city that speaks to me in this way... return home to cape town city of sun, segregation and sea with a hundred ideas and images beneath my skin.... beautiful...