What do I remember? Slippery certainty, and the solidly of a suckle on a teat; a slap to snap my mouth out of the attempt to toy with it,all efforts to draw out milk from mum’s breasts having yielded nil.…

What makes me wonder? My grandmother, Africa a fleeting fragment of faith in a memory in full flight; a summoning of sad sounds and shocked silences: a sobbed question: ‘Oh Africa, why have you left me, why?’ Death, a silent…

  What makes me wonder? How, in peering deep into Deep Time, we tiptoe on the wings of escaped light, into the heart of ancient violence. How, through the past prism of present heat, we peer into promised pain; for…

What makes me wonder? How we are all doomed by the freedom of imprisonment: Tightly tethered on a lonely blue orb by gravity’s freedom; How, without this freedom, we would flail fearfully wandering about, fighting to flee from a fleeing…

What makes me wonder? The Mountains – all dressed up with nowhere to go. Their smooth velvet shoulders and curved breasts… Their mild tremble in honour of the passing breeze… Their whimsical smiles in the shimmering noon sun… Oh, how…

What makes me wonder? ‘Tele, do you sometimes fear the future? ‘Dad, I don’t fear the future; the future should fear me! But, yes, I think about obstacles, failures ahead but…’ ‘But Tele, obstacles and failure are good for you;…

What makes me wonder? How a brief interlude of silence abides amidst the maddening chaos; how the memory of the founding fires lies embedded as much in our genes as in the heaving hotness of the heavens. The interlude inside…

What makes me wonder? How it is that, in the quantum tango we call life, Mercy can tackle and mock Cruelty’s efforts to entangle, breaking its icy, clawing hands on the rocky shores of love?! And yet, in this random…

What makes me wonder? The ceaseless clash or catch of man’s world of crash or clutch; The way excitable neurons search for a mirror to copy or destroy; The way resilience of conceit and narcissism make a mockery of age;…

What makes me wonder? How, in daring to define life as triumphal, we bounce to the dreamy dance of dunces: Is it being praised for excelling in certain things? Is it scaling the peaks of the immaterial and the material?…