I went to Orange Grove to find the African literature bookshop. Usual Tuesday afternoon, y'know.
However, Mayor Amos (that guy) forgot to tell me that it has moved. The sign remains but the actual shop is empty except for three ladies manning the entrance expectantly.
I found out that the shop has moved to Gandhi Square but I wasn't going to drive there given the disgusting heat of the afternoon and the seemingly ever-present flash of my petrol gauge. Goodness, petrol expenses kill me. When I think of Kimmy K (don't you?) the envy I feel is related primarily to the fact that if she gets petrol, she probably fills up every time. Every time.
Anyway, I went to Wits Hospice instead just for a browse. It really is such a strange shop, for one, I have no idea why people donate family photos, it is quite curious. Broken hearts club, I suspect. But then again, photos aren't what they used to be in the age of selfies and camera phones. The shop also has tons of secondhand books but my OCD tendencies were flaring up due to the dust and the white-trashiness of it all so I called it a day and went home to watch Siba's Table.