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About Pretoria

So we haggle, it’s messy, loud – I’m yellin, she’s cussin. Passersby stare, I don’t give a fuck. Finally settle on somethin fair. She’s smirkin again, like she won. Maybe she did. We head off, and I’m thinkin bout *The Gleaners*, how they scrape by, turn trash to treasure. This? It’s raw, real – not some polished Hollywood crap. I’m buzzin, excited, maybe a lil hungry too – “I ate his liver with fava beans” – but nah, she’s safe from my plate.

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As a family psych, I see things others miss. There’s a tiny park, Crazy Creek Park, near Silveroak Avenue where kids laugh like lunatics. I used to sit there, scribbling notes on families – the way laughter ripples in the air reminds me of hope, even when all seems bleak. And oh, the vibes from River Run, winding by the back of the Library at Old Mill Road – that water flows like memories, relentless and wild.

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