Looking up, I see infinite iterations And my heart is free to fill the sky. When I look down, I see a world made small by hate and fear, where I cannot move or touch. I will not share a photo of down. Down is your windowless room beside the railway and the endless earthquake of trucks. There is a world between us. But we both may hear the birds. Photo description: Twenty-two grey pigeons in scattered flight across a clear cobalt sky. Outstretched wings underlit against the dark arrows of their heads.

Glinting sinews stretch muscles tense, twist rippling sleek skin. Dark arms of the ocean writhe silently shoreward. February 2021 Photo description: Durban harbour at night. The tide is turning. Low black waves advance, rolling in light reflected from cranes and ships.

Sweet crystal sunrise Giant heart of sugar water Heavy on my thighs. January 2021 Photo description: A glimpse inside a green coconut. Wet fibres glint rose-gold, sparkle around the dark tunnel bored into the pulpy belly. Blue Lagoon beach, Durban

None of these neighbours knows How together, through their small choices Of a shade of paint, a tinted light bulb A TV screen, or a tiffany curtain They have turned my back-street view Into a lantern of urban life. February 2020 Photo description: Windows in an apartment block are illuminated at night, creating a grid of panels in pastel shades of green, blue, orange and purple.

Why am I not content To be a fragile skein In the weave of the world? Even this severed one Rent in its noble cause Of mooring metal against stone. Why, slivered yet still twined In this vast coil, must I Clutch the deluded thought Of being the whole rope? 9 February 2020 Photo description: A close view of the plaited fibres that make up a mooring rope, roughly coiled against a harbour wall. Some of the strands are frayed and torn.

I will walk in the harbour when the tide is out. Alongside the bait catchers With my children, perhaps with someone who loves me as much as they. I will watch ships pass within metres of our muddy feet and stand connected to the world through water. 27 April 2018 Photo description: An empty cargo ship leaves Durban harbour. Two tugs cling to the side of the vessel, escorting it through the narrow channel. They are dwarfed by its red and black bulk and framed in the reflection of its yellow cranes. In the foreground, tiny stick figures stroll across the shimmering sandbank at low tide, looking for bait. Palm…

If death would come as gently as a curl If we could see our dimming as a shading Not as a loss of colour, fading We too might flash and float and flutter as we furl. October 2018 Photo description: The drying petals of a fallen orchid flower rest in the palm of a hand. Vivid violet gives way to soft pink and lilac hues. Dark veins bleed, marbling the wafery edges of the curled bloom.

  Beauty overlooked is not lost or lessened The beam of judgment dims only the judge We are overshadowed by ego, not comparison Light runs through us Brightens our veins Like the petals of the unpicked orchid. January 2020 Photo description: Close-up of scallop-shaped sections of cerise orchid petals. In the foreground, the petals are outlined by white light and the network of violet veins is visible. Shade on the petals in the background renders them a dull purple, all detail unseen.

Making the world For one moment Perfection in presence Celebration Without expectation All remains Even memory Hurled into the wind Like sand. Connection with dissolution Stains, sustains. January 2021 Photo description: A white lotus design on yellow forms the detail of a sand mandala. The colours smudge the edge of a black mat. The bottom left corner of the photo is a triangle of royal blue carpet, cut across by a navy stanchion rope. Amsterdam ICC. July 2018. International AIDS Conference