After all relationships had sell-by dates. Sometimes, the ones with the most passion were the ones to burn out faster. Others had a sweet and long-winding coil which burned with slow amicability. At times, it was true, people rekindled a dying ember with a new flame. But they hardly ever noticed the rekindling had come after some time of estrangement - whether physical or emotional. Because people needed newness to make a thing last indefinitely. To make it really last. And because Jan didn't like letting people go, she knew to look for the signs of love's waning. So she could tell how to ease it down slowly into its grave and keep her lovers as friends. Because she really believed people were meant to cross paths. People were meant to stay in your life. There was a reason for all encounters. And relationships had to be cosseted, no matter their shelf life. But they had to be allowed to change shape and form. It had to be given space to grow into something different.

— Adelheid Manefeldt

And then, like most of the time she went down that road of thought, things started lighting up. Rays filtered through the smog like tentacles – and a quite intangible hope infected the darkness with its resolution. She never knew where these urges to 'move forward' came from. Their source eluded her – but she knew they were there somewhere, just as mysterious and uncontrollable as the darkness. Treacle of light had unwittingly penetrated these dark alleyways in her thinking. Illumination came slowly, but it was undeniable.

— Adelheid Manefeldt

Gone were the days when December locked coastal towns down in the grips of labor. Although it was still mostly true, things had changed ; Cape Town had adapted its rhythm to the influx of foreign feet. Tourism was a year -round thing and no longer limited to the summer. Most local tourists still flocked here during this time, but Capetonians didn’t seem too bothered to serve at their beck and call. Sam thought of Cape Town as France, and the rest of the country as England. The city, although relying heavily on local tourism – feigned ignorance when it came to the contribution of these outsiders to its wellbeing.

— Adelheid Manefeldt

He lived a quiet existence where the future was easy to predict, and the past was a cancer in remission. It was meaningful, of course. But it was lonely.

— Adelheid Manefeldt

Indelible waiting'art boutique". I will wait for the night to chase me..." I sit on a rock and watch children playing in the park below They don't see Moor know my thoughts Or that you haven't called But I forgive them their indifference today Above me a crow caws Perhaps he smells the crumbs on my dresser my anger But he flits away over the trees Probably has a home Probably has a wife Probably knew to call The children leave The coffee in my can turns cold The wind nips at me Some streetlights flicker on But I won't move Not yeti will wait for the night to chase me Back where I came from Up the empty street To a quiet house

— Adelheid Manefeldt

I sit on a rock and watch children playing in the park below They don't see Moor know my thoughts Or that you haven't called But I forgive them their indifference today Above me a crow caws Perhaps he smells the crumbs on my dresser my anger But he flits away over the trees Probably has a home Probably has a wife Probably knew to call The children leave The coffee in my can turns cold The wind nips at me Some streetlights flicker on But I won't move Not yeti will wait for the night to chase me Back where I came from Up the empty street To a quiet house

— Adelheid Manefeldt

It had started to drizzle. The lamp poles cast a kaleidoscope of light dancing across the puddles in the road. The rain made Sam feel even more lost now, as if these shadowy events were invisible to the world. As if the night was cloaked in anonymity. This wasn’t a peaceful rain - it was a sad one. A drizzle, which wept for the inevitable. Sam knew even if she got Alison out of this alive, the cuts on their lives had already been made, pooling the blood of consequence of their feet as the night dragged on. Whichever way this went, they’d have scars from this night. Scars and scabs and things which could not be spoken. And that made her feel utterly hopeless.

— Adelheid Manefeldt

People tended to forgive only partially. They forgave in order to, one day, get a chance to remind those they’d forgiven about their failings. They forgave to feel righteous. That’s why forgiveness was so painful – because it meant conceding. It meant letting go of her case without a rebuttal. True forgiveness knew no justice. It was liberating, most probably… but freedom comes at a cost. Freedom is never free.

— Adelheid Manefeldt

Sam groaned. A warmth on her face alerted her to the new morning. She opened one eye and peered at the fuzzy daylight streaming in through the window. Her head throbbed like a bitch. Her mouth felt like a carpet. She pushed herself off the couch and stood up shakily, kicking bottles as she stumbled to her small kitchen. Every movement was painful and slow. She was a sloth tight-roping through time. She held onto the basin for a moment to steady herself. Furthermore, she grabbed a plastic cup and opened the tap, letting it flow as she filled and refilled it, gulping down as much water as she could. Furthermore, she splashed her face, neck and chest with water, then refilled the cup and dumped the contents over her head. Furthermore, she stood there, unaware of the moments passing by, as the water dripped down her body. Willing herself to wake up and feel better. Willing the nausea into oblivion.

— Adelheid Manefeldt

That was the problem with one's actions. They would always remain ‘acted’. They always remained ‘being done’, and their influence on the world, whether small or big, would always be palpable. You couldn't refute the past. He would always remain liable for the consequences of his actions. Should anyone knock on his door and ask for reparation, he would give what was asked of him without question. There simply was no way of clearing the world of its history, and its history was simply a compilation of the existence of people and other organisms, and their actions. Of things which had been done.

— Adelheid Manefeldt