Beauty to be effaced or made ugly. Fear of the unknown. In beauty a mystery that stirs and moves him—this is the danger. And hence, the violence.

Confrontation with the priest in the church. Knife in one hand, he pulls down and desecrates a crucifix. There is anger and fury, a sense of impotence against the change taking place. The priest immobile at the altar—the enigma.

Beauty—an old face, leaves in the mud, the dust flying off a mine dump, laughter, tears.

His fear of being ‘moved’—a realisation.

The kennel in the backyard where he hides from the police.

The yellow bitch, rat-faced, gives birth to her pups a few feet from his face. He can’t move, chases her away. He must watch.

Madondo was his name—a long time ago. A name dimly remembered.

Finally, the value—life = love is found and clung to, guarded, cherished (the old man). After all the doubt.

Uncertainty = unknown. Maybe? Why? Why not?

Cape Town: Landed just before Christmas.

Sea Point—11 p.m. Cool clear night, the crowds withdrawn to the cafés and their flats. Walk along the beach front, passing the children’s playground. Four coloured nursemaids on the swings, singing. Large African woman on the roundabout, turning and turning around, around. She sat quite still, a disconsolate figure in a maid’s white apron and cap.

Story (contd)—The kid is leader of a gang. Four members including him. The ‘change’ as a positive force, outside of himself. Resisted.

One of the members and the victim—chosen because he knew with unfailing accuracy where the heart was—his bicycle spoke never missed.

The puppies born dead. Life ugly.

Hiding as a young boy from the police. Someone kicked the yellow chained-up bitch, it crawled as far as it could go, towards him in the shelter, then lay down and gave birth to death.

No one came to remove them because everyone was taken away in the removals, and he didn’t dare leave because through the day he heard the harsh voices of policemen.

The baby in the shoebox: it was small, and black, and older than anything he had ever seen in his life. Its face, lined and wrinkled. Left by a young girl, in a shoebox in the ruined house where he had crawled, wounded.

The first night it rained—summer thunderstorm. So they had water and that kept them alive until the next day.

Sequence: (1) Killing on train. (2) Shebeen—gang fight or police. (3) Ruin—baby and the memory = light.

Looking for milk for the baby: ‘Mama, have you any milk?’ Takes her back and forces her to feed the child.

Sophiatown—ruin of one of the buildings.

In the end, rushing to save the child as the bulldozer moves in. The wall collapses on both. Or alive?—the kid crying.

He got there with a few seconds to spare. But they were few. Time only, as the first crack snaked along the wall and then bulged, time only to throw himself on all fours over the child, so that he took the first weight of falling brick, before he was flattened out, smothering them both.