Mangos. Dog Food. Long Life Milk.

Somewhere on Twist Street a homeless person could be wearing my socks. A drug dealer could, at this very moment, be cluelessly attempting to dial local numbers on my United States cell phone. My laptop could be part of an emerging business in Diepkloof, my underwear lying on the floor of an illicit lover's rundown flat. For the moment, I was one with the city.

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