Masha du Toit

Things I saw:

An old woman at a bus stop, politely pointing out that there’s a bumblebee perched on my finger.

A crow grabbing food from a street cat.

A man walking three big dogs, annoyed by a forklift backing down a steep, narrow, cobbled lane.

A grumpy looking woman helping another woman (her mother?) who got stuck climbing over the turnstile at a public toilet.

Cops with coifs.

A dead seal on the side of the road that turned out, on closer inspection, to be a fat, sleeping street dog.

A dog on a long chain being taunted by a crow.

Things I saw:

A cat stalking a crow in the forecourt of a mosque.

Small boys ecstatically waving plastic daggers at a passing fighter jet.

All the cats in the street hanging out at the cobbler’s shop, watching him work.

A crow hiding a crust of bread next to a footpath.

Facist graffiti.

Red poppies in the long grass next to the freeway.

Things I saw:

A man next to the road, slicing open a mattress as if he’s filleting a fish.

A street dog dreaming about barking.

A derelict hotel with peeling walls and an empty swimming pool, and a row of newly washed carpets hung to dry on a railing.

A school of fish so small I could hardly see them.

Two crows raiding a dumpster before sunrise.

A goose eyeing me carefully, checking whether I’m safe to approach.

Things I saw:

A crow eating a pistachio in the forecourt of the Blue Mosque.

An old man, hands full of red peppers, looking wistfully at some discarded irrigation pipes.

A big plastic bottle full of live leeches.

A worrying plume of smoke that turned out to be a cloud.

A group of women in black niqabs sitting on the side of a ferry boat, feet swinging over the water.

A small bucket full of live fish being hoisted, suddenly, out of sight to the bridge above me.