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1 Hillside Road in August This avenue should have been lined with trees large enough to nest hamerkops, shelter vervets, resolve the discord of a breeze, shade road-rage, allay the helter-skelter of wheelbarrows, bikes, cars, trucks, juggernauts, stray donkeys, bumless boys with attitude, buxom girls in tackies and mincing shorts… trees that could claim the public’s gratitude. Instead it’s dotted with colonials too scrawny for children to climb, or snakes to whisper in. Yet when that blossom spills its incense on the smouldering grass, takes to heart a variegated pink, a white slipper, there comes a moment of delight. ...

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