April was in her late twenties, but she was built like a nineteen-year-old, willowy and deceptively resilient. Most people she met underestimated her, including me. We caught a flight at nine A.M., spent most of the trip talking about my most recent brush with death, and landed right after eleven with plenty of day left. It felt good to be a we again, even if only for a while. We were extra polite, careful with each other, not wanting to trip over any land mines too soon. I was glad that November is summer in South Africa, because there was no fog to obscure the grand vision of Table Mountain’s flat summit. The coastal town is designed to worship the mountain. I’d booked us two cottages at a quaint Cape-Dutch bed-and-breakfast near Stellenbosch, but I wanted April to see the view from Table Mountain right away. The summit of Table Mountain might be my favorite place in the world. In sufficient quantity or quality, beauty is an intoxicant. When I close my eyes and visualize a safe, meditative space, Table Mountain is where I go.
What do You think about From Cape Town With Love (2010)?
