Daria's diary

14Oct

The Photograph Looked Ordinary

The photograph looked ordinary, and that frightened me. Aisha, the receipt, the stamp, the ledger page—all of it fitted into one bedside frame, as if a life cou…

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13Oct

He listened through the walls

The worst part was watching the officers become ordinary again. They wrote down what Mrs. Steyn could prove, walked where they expected danger to be, and left m…

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12Oct

What staying actually means

The drawer moved. Not opened — shifted, the way a drawer shifts when the house breathes and something inside it settles. I was washing a plate. I had made mysel…

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11Oct

Nineteen thousand is not enough

I found Gerhard van der Merwe's name on the co-op board today. Not the Gerhard. Not the one who owns Pieter's farm and his Caltex and his girl. A different Gerh…

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10Oct

Pieter se meisiekind

Someone filmed me. That is the part that will not leave. Not the word — I have heard worse on the farm roads at midnight from men who meant it — but the phone h…

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9Oct

What patience costs

The man in the kitchen window with the silver watch. I told my brother I could not explain why he frightened me and that is the most honest thing I said all nig…

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8Oct

He did not look away from it

The patient man appeared at the Goodwood stoep without being called and he did not say a single word. He walked between me and Wikus, opened the door of the Hil…

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7Oct

Notebook logic and the thing I almost said

I have read the line four hundred times. Citrusdal receipt. 2026-10-03. Four days ago, which means he was in Citrusdal four days ago, which means either he live…

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6Oct

The patient man's empty lane

He was there. Lower Tankwa turnoff, silver SUV, engine off. I saw it in my peripheral the way you see a cop car on the highway even when you're doing the limit.…

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5Oct

The Polaroid won't stop

I keep seeing it. Not the snake on the concrete — the photo sliding off his sill like something he was done with. And I know what Tannie Mia's gate looks like.…

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4Oct

The Float Keeps Shrinking

Another ordinary day. No haul, no call. I sat in the flat and the silence did the thing it always does — it started asking questions I cannot answer. The float…

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3Oct

The Math I Refuse to Do

The insurance bounced on the third and I paid it from the venom float like it was nothing. Like that money was always meant to be split three ways: snakes, me,…

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2Oct

The watch and the clipboard

The man with the silver watch was inside that storeroom in Parow. I did not say it out loud on the neighbourhood walk. I said it to myself, once, on the quiet s…

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1Oct

What Werner put on the counter

I have been telling myself for three years that the house in Greyton means nothing. A GPS coordinate I delete from memory. A stoep with cracked cement and a ket…

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30Sep

The membrane, the culvert, the quiet

She made me show the bag on camera and the hatch membrane slid out of nowhere — translucent, almost pretty, and it hit my boot like an accusation. I swore befor…

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29Sep

The thorn tree photograph

I keep looking at the sent message like it is a receipt for something I am not sure I bought. The photograph of the empty tub. Empty. Eight scorpions I spent tw…

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28Sep

The Catalog and the Weight

A day spent counting what I already have, and it does not help. The wrap on my palm is three days old now. I should change it but changing it means looking, and…

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27Sep

The Route Is Not Proof

I keep treating the route recording like a witness I can control. It cannot ask why I am doing this, or decide my account sounds inconvenient. It only keeps the…

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26Sep

The Bag Between Us

I keep telling myself the only decision that matters is whether the bag stays sealed. That sounds clean and professional. It is not clean. I am furious that Pie…

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25Sep

Reading his sentence seven times

The gully is quiet in a way the city never is. I keep checking the dial on the cab because I don't trust the wind. If it swings too far south tonight I'll have…

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24Sep

Still carrying the photo

I woke up on Karel's narrow bed and for half a second I thought the bag was breathing. It was just the canvas settling. Sun already in the valley, that pale Kar…

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23Sep

Holding the bag at the gate

The jack kicked and I took it in the palm. Bound it with the elastic from the Constantia adder's cash — felt right, using that man's money to close my own wound…

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22Sep

the photo is in my pocket

I bit a man at the Caltex and I am not sorry. I want to get the order of events down in case I lose them by morning. He put his hand near my waist. He was tryin…

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21Sep

I kept the one thing he wanted

Naledi reopened the bite. That is the line my body keeps returning to. I can list the rest — the last ampoule, the affidavit, the Section 65, the fuel-card hold…

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20Sep

Pieter sent his hand

The bag is quiet now. I can hear the bakkie ticking in the driveway, cooling down, and the bag is quiet. She has stopped rolling. I don't know if that is good o…

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19Sep

Owed more than money

Took the female out into the yard this morning. Not for release — told myself I was checking her container, water dish, the humidity reading. I sat on the step…

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18Sep

Blood on the Cufflink

He knew where to put his hand. That is the part I keep replaying. Not that he stepped into the road — that is just stupid men being stupid. He saw the bandage,…

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17Sep

The card is in my pocket

The card is in my pocket. That is the first thing I have to say and it has been the first thing in my pocket all day. I walked ten metres with my bleeding right…

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16Sep

Still antiseptic

The shoulder is what I keep checking. I lift my arm slowly in the kitchen and wait for the pull and there it is — that mean little line from the joint down to w…

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15Sep

Dad's first name in print

The form. That is what I keep coming back to. I thought I was going to lose the bag. I had already braced for the bag, and then he handed me a piece of paper an…

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