God speed all the bakers at dawn.

A year ago when I moved to this place, I would hear the baker leaving at four in the morning to bake his croissants. I would wonder about the apartment in the sky and what it is that drives someone to do what they do. Now it's me living in the sky and leaving at dawn. On the road I pass trucks and I listen to the Blues. I wonder about the Vissershok Road working girls, they recognize me now and wave, skimpy dresses fluttering in the breeze. One morning, an overturned vegetable truck, people spilling into the road for spoils. Bright orange cardinals explode from the reeds. The moon rising like some huge luminous egg, a barn on fire.

Sometimes I shout with frustration, but I know that these are special times.

And my honey and I, we are far apart, but he sends me Turkish hearts.

Where the wheat goes...

We shot at Klipheuwel Township yesterday, across from the grain silos. I happened to say out loud that ever since I was a child, one of my biggest wishes has been to see the inside of a silo. Within moments I was handed a bright blue hard hat and up seven flights of stairs we scurried.
Then a ladder and a trap door... and the world lay spread out as far as you could see.

I said to Thomas, who was showing me around: "I never dreamt that I would ever see anything like this." And he replied: "Me neither." He lifted up a hatch to show me that the silo we were standing on was filled to the brim with white maize. And yes - it is true that if you open one of the little doors down below, a ton of grain will come pouring out!

Back on set, the children were fantastic as always and every hen had a brood of chicks.
It was a remarkable day.

Stadig. Stof op koring.

I won't be here much for the rest of this month. We occupied the farm yesterday, twenty sets to dress in and around...

Last Sunday afternoon already seems so far away - a lovely reprieve with not a single thought about work. Those Smashing Bekkers in their fairy-tale cottage in the woods... we ate and drank and played Pétanque. And laughed, a lot.

I drive to work early in the morning. Wheat fields and wind pumps, pied crows and a sign next to the gravel road that reads: Go Slow. Dust on wheat.

The King of Gentlemen.

Rex Cleaver. He's right there at the top of my list. So kind and polite and so very, very talented. Sign writer extraordinaire. Artist.

Flip-around washroom sign for African Children's Orphanage Set.