Stubby pencils and make-up brushes

A prose poem from the muffled interior of anger

Last week, the pencil in this picture my friend sent me felt like a representation of an inner state.

My apologies to the person who took the photograph of this little stub and posted it somewhere where it was lifted and sent on: I cannot credit you. I would if I knew who you were.

But that was last week and this is this week. Autumn’s pouring honey light on the mornings and I read a poem by Ada Limón about a groundhog ‘waddle-thieving my tomatoes’ that ends with these words:

She is a funny creature and earnest, / and she is doing what she can to survive.

(From ‘Give me This’ in The Hurting Kind

Blissing out on ecotherapy

A flat walk into the forest – no climbing. Some mindful pausing. The noisy silence of nature to dampen the never-quiet of life in 2025. The expertise of a mountain guide and the guidance of a mindfulness expert.

Are you coming forest bathing with me? The special offer is open to Love Letter’s paid subscribers.

There are three spots left. Let me know by reply or DM me. Here are the details:

Date: Saturday, 3 May 2025

Time: Noon to 4.30pm

Where: Entrance to Newlands Forest

Bring: Walking shoes, a warm top, a towel or blanket to lie on (no yoga mats allowed)

Snack: Honey and ginger tea and some nuts will be provided after the mindfulness session.

Price: R350 (instead of R450 per person)

(More details direct to forest bathers once I have confirmation who is coming.)

Send me a message or reply to this email to get your name on the list.

Looking north. An early autumn sunrise from my back stoep. PICTURE: Karin Schimke

Ready-faced

The nails of the woman doing her make-up in 1C are a glossy pink that remind me of a wet white baby. Her skin is matt and the colour of newsprint before it’s printed. It reminds of a dry white adult…