clinking and clanking.
we play with them in hopes that they will play with him.
he who sits around in the afternoon after waiting long
hours in the unemployment line.
we whisper out their windows in hopes that they will
whisper in their ears.
whisper to them: messages of hope instead of fear.
we know well that safety thrives in bright pink and
danger dwells in muddy browns and faded greys.
hot pink laughs.
dark brown frowns.
hot pink dances.
grey merely moves.
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together, we dress fear in pink in hopes that she will
smile a little and join us in reinventing much.
After getting this translated, it was clear that
they are a little troubled by the landlords, land
owners and politicians who seem to have forgotten
that there are buildings that need a bit of TLC. A
voice for the overlooked, a cry for the voiceless. If
#BEWAREOFCOLOUR did not paint them pink, who
would?
I get their frustration, I really do. Johannesburg is
in desperate need of change. Her streets are filthy,
overturned bins spew their trash from the pavements
and into the streets. Derelict, colourless buildings are
left to the rats and those desperate enough who dare
risk enter them.
But one gets the sense that their frustrations are a
little misguided. They describe their pink explosion as
an urban experiment. I have seen urban experiments
and they have transformed neighbourhoods, not
defaced them. I have seen art and graffiti used to send