It is, but, a shame that I cannot hold your hand. It is, but, a shame that I cannot see your face. Is it, but, a shame? I will not curse nor will I label. I will do good, I will make you happy and I will live.

Why do people concern themselves so much with what others do behind closed doors? Who are these people who act on their ‘phobia’ [read: hate]? I would like to one day, perhaps, fully understand why the fight is against the different rather than against the dangerous. It matters not, I see, that someone may be working, have a family, pay tax and live as a respectable member of society. Should they be a little ‘different’ due to inexplicable emotions and hormones/choices, they are shunned and looked down upon. (I am quite certain it is not a ‘choice’ but rather something that is as integral to a person as breathing is.)

As an educated, young and interested individual, I have seen both sides of the coin. Living in an affluent suburb, in an old, near collapse (but clean and neat) home, I came to know how to be good, how to be kind, how to be loving and how to treat others with respect, dignity and fairness.

I was taught how to be a decent human being.tumblr_mlvtihy3Qw1qefer0o1_500

I escaped my hometown and province with a posh British-South African accent and a new lease on life. Moving to Cape Town changed my whole being. Black, white, men, women, boy-girls and girl-boys walk (for the most part) freely and are allowed to essentially do as they want – without harming or hurting. Of course, things do go wrong now and again. (Entropy explains this).

Mistakes that cannot yet be cured.

A stone (or word) or four would have, in my hometown, been hurled to the ‘perpetrators’ as fast as shackles would snap onto a prisoner’s wrists.

Why is this?

‘I am neither atheist nor Christian. I am undecided. I do not stand for labels. (Subjective much?) Do good for others, do well in life, work hard, make friends and do not forget to be happy, I am told.’

This mantra is all I hear, all I live by. Despite this, I realise, something is still lacking. 

In your eyes, judge-mental and nosy world, what is my crime? No, truly, what exactly is my crime? Is it the location of my happiness?

In the arms and warmth of my loved one – a mismatched pair that does not ‘belong’?

I know there is more to learn but right now, all I can do is ask and probe. I will read. I will ask. I will learn. I will live.

But most of all, I will love.

And I will love you, my love.

Yours truly,



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Nonni Faustine

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