#Culture

My first memory is of standing in the yard when I was about three years old, having my picture taken by my father. I spent hours in Dad’s basement darkroom, watching images come to life in trays of chemicals. We had slide shows in the living room every Sunday night.

I know I said I was going to look forward, not back, from now on. But I lied. There is one more day in 2011 that I want to write about.

My first full year in Johannesburg is over. I won’t try to sum it up in any kind of neat and tidy way, as that would be impossible.

I suppose it would be logical for me to say something like, ‘Good riddance to 2011, it was a horrible year. Looking forward to better times in 2012.’ But that’s not how I feel at all, actually. This was the most remarkable year of my life and I don’t want it to be over. What I’d really like to do is travel back in time to about halfway through 2011, and pause the clock there forever.

I gave myself a new blog for Christmas.

It’s a good time to reinvent myself. It’s been a heck of a year. I’ve experienced immense joy in 2011, along with unimaginable grief and despair. The last two months in particular have left me feeling like someone removed my internal organs, beat them to a pulp with a hammer, then placed them back inside my body. And the year ain’t over yet.