Salut!

Everyone who doesn't read this blog (I should do shout-outs for the handful of people I know who actually do. Hi mum!) is going to think I misspelt 'salute'. 

I didn't.

This is 'hi', or 'salut'. Fancy and French.

That's all I can give you right now.

Anything more and I will be telling you all about law. And I will bore you to death.

Have a great weekend.

Love Jessie

Burning the midnight oil

Procrastination, you ask?

Art, I say.

More bad photos of good exhibitions: Lola's

So Lola's is sporting our exhibition for two months!

The exhibition's called 'A-Head'.

And all the subject matter is....heads.

So get on down to the Long(est) Street in Cape Town.

You won't be disappointed by their scrumptious food, and hey! You might even dig some of the art.

Spinach

This just makes me happy.

I don't know what it is, only that it's called Spinach.

It's things like this that keep me going through the exam-learning that has begun. Hope it tweaks a cheek on your side too!

Everyone needs them.

Hope yours are as cool as mine!

Midweek madness

It's Wednesday.

I have three assignments for Monday.

I haven't finished any.

This is exactly how my head feels.

The library is a-calling!

Liger

It was my sister's graduation last week. I didn't go, I was too busy working on my own law degree.

But I did go for the celebratory dinner for it- at Asoka.

What an amazing place, for an amazing person.

Here's her favourite poem to mark the occasion, by William Blake:

TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies	5
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?	10
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp	15
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee?	20
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?