In isolation, the outside world’s wavering light leaks onto my studio walls.

Living in South Africa, with the highest income inequality in the world, I could not help but worry about those affected. As a freelancer I'm used to periods with no work; but what if I lived hand-to-mouth or owned a large factory with high overheads and employees to pay.

Inequality on racial and social lines has intensified, the wealthy and the poor look at each other with sneaky suspicion as to who might be spreading it more. How do you get a child to keep their mask on? Desperate and negligent restaurant owners allow us entry with our masks as passports, while our temperature remains unchecked. We hug and shake hands carelessly, our friends can’t possibly have it. The homeless refuse a free meal and a mattress amongst other strangers. Why can’t I use the fitting rooms at Mr Price? Beggars at the intersection attach their cups to a long pole, we donate for their effort.

A mouldy sky, a smear of trees, someone bathes in the damp, but, is that a light in the distance?
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