I can see your dirtypillows. Everyone will. They'll be looking at your body. The Book says— Those are my breasts, Momma. Every woman has them.

She remembered the pleasurable warm smell of the cow droppings […] as if the four-divided stomachs of the great oxen were filled with nothing but concentrated memories of hours of grazing along the water heavy vleis.

I can't believe how many people still fall for the coin glued to the sidewalk.

It jumps with my humour.