The centerpiece of Dullstroom in Mpumalanga is The Old Transvaal Inn. The stone walls speak of history and durability. We stopped at the inn for lunch en route to the Kruger National Park. The food was good but sitting still on the verandah to enjoy it was difficult. The shop inside called me to explore. Rooms offering a plethora of toys, sweets, knickknacks and books called a siren song which I could not resist. In a womb of books my spirit smiles and I experience a feeling of peace and home. I don’t have to read them all, simply inhale them and let their essence whisper secrets to the heart of me. Books piled on tables, books on shelves, and in every available space. I could not tear myself away from the treasure chest of words.
During a fleeting visit to my family on the verandah, Cliff and I discussed the book which I was reading (Ellis Island), the IRA and the Scottish referendum. On leaving, a lady exuding a rare energy, called me over to her table We discovered that we are both writers and poets (she is working on her fourth book). Our fleeting encounter left me with the sense that I had chanced upon a kindred spirit. Part of me wished that we could share more time in conversation, mapping the places where our minds and thoughts meet.