Imagine you lived a different life, part two.

My assistant's hands, after the murder scene in Hout Bay.

A week ago, when I wrote about my friend's idyllic existence on the mountain in the winelands, the last thing on my mind was a shack in the townships. But someone lives here as well. Three people in fact.

There is no bathroom. Water gets carried home in gallon jugs. I stood alone in this shack for a few minutes, while the crew were setting up outside. The wind made it creak and settle. The structure so flimsy, I could hear breathing through a shared wall.

If there's one thing I've learnt over the years, it's that people are infinitely adaptable. But when I came home late that night, my apartment felt like a small palace and I felt infinitely lucky.

The children made me happy. They told me their names and led me by the hand.

The next day, I went straight onto another job. Location: a luxury penthouse in the city. A Nivea commercial with a beautiful girl rubbing lotion onto her legs, over and over and over again.
 

This is my life.