A Sense of Solitude

I do not hear or see the same things that You hear or see, nor do I expect you to understand my plight Vriende Street was once a quiet, preserved lane resplendent With firs, oaks and tall beauganvillas, branches whispering gently In a soft breeze which merely echoes its approval of my arrival   It…

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Meeting Oskar Schindler

In spirit, as an agnostic Christian, chastised into the Roman Catholic faith from birth, along with my younger brother, Giovanni, I first met Austrian-born maverick entrepreneur, Oskar Schindler at Cape Town’s Victoria and Alfred Waterfront on the eve of South Africa’s first democratic elections. Unbeknown to us at that time, racially categorised Hutu’s were sharpening…

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Earliest Childhood Memories

Call it a positive affirmation from this private writer, but a few years ago I attempted to compose a poem, which I eventually left incomplete and cluttered, focussing on mostly happy childhood memories. Those whose memories are not short and have shared the same environments with me in the past may recall happier days. I…

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A Gentleman’s Tale

Not long after the Second World War ended, 1946, Polish classical pianist, Wladyslaw Szpilman¬†recorded his horrible memories of the Holocaust in autobiographical form. The manner in which he recorded such horrors as the herding of his family into cattle trucks to be transported to concentration camps such as Auschwitz and how he survived for at…

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