Yes!!!! I've finally found a black fashionista...her name is Shala Monroque and ofcourse shes not South African....

You healed my heart and broke it all in the space of a single breath.
You didn’t even notice that I was there, paying such rapt attention to your words.
Lost time is angry tonight, cursing me.
Turns and twists that I never saw, now so long behind me that there is no strength left to return.
It is the most potent joke.  There can be nothing that is not affected by what was, but still I can dream.
I can dream of a moment in time, held and still held.  Perfected by all its flaws, needed and wanted.
Pure in its filth and sin; vile in its love and passion.  There can be no escaping this truth, even if it is a lie.
The sun sets low in the sky, me above it.  It feels as though that sinking light is stealing something important from me.
I return to cold and dark, as I must.  You never knew.  I can never let you know.  But I so desperately want to tell you.  But once those words are formed and set free, they will trap us as even now we are trapped.
There can be no future as we dream it, only as it is.  But still I can dream.
Even now, I think on the contradictions of us.  When we most need each other, we cannot be there.
Either we aren’t ready, or we have no choice.  Seeing and not seeing, both;
They are a hurt visited again and again foolishly, or bravely.  Which that is, I am uncertain.
Do we return to be loved despite the hurt or because of it?  I can’t say that I am certain, but I can still dream.
Great love and great pain are all we ever have for each other, and it would have been enough for me.
I would have allowed myself to be consumed by that fire if it meant for a time I could feel the warmth of you.
Now so many years later, it is a joke on me, and on you.
We who turn from warmth, holding the edges of sanity in the dark, screaming at nothing and hoping no one hears us.
I wish so many good things for you, but still I want you.
How can I want you, and still want you happy, knowing what I know?  I cannot be with you, but I wish.
I want you to be happy and safe, but I wish.  I can’t have everything I want, but I can dream.

Head Honcho fashion show was off the chains...(images taken by Lebo Lukewarm)...you can find more images on http://www.headhoncho.co.za/

So my sense of style is alil bit bizarre but hey what the hack I don't like looking like everyone else....

Chloe Sevigny

Jemi Hendrix needs no introduction....'vodoo child"...he was just so
'cool"...

Mal Waldron & Johnny Dyani - Live in Rome '79

Johnny Dyani a South African maestro...It's sad that most South Africans don't know him when his a world renound jazz double bassist and pianist who played with such musicians as Don Cherry, Steve Lacy, David Murray and Leo Smith. He recorded with Dollar Brand (Abdullah Ibrahim), Don Cherry, Steve Lacy, David Murray, Joseph Jarman, Clifford Jarvis, Don Moye, Han Bennink, Brotherhood of Breath, Mal Waldron, Pierre Dørge and many others. South Africa really does have talent we just have idiots acting as talent scouts #yeaIsaidit

Sia - Soon We'll Be Found

This song explains how I feel right now...

Nina Simone A Single Woman

The Fray - Look After You

These are two of the best books I've ever read in my life...A million Little pieces by James Frey and Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiesdis(Lead singer of the red hot chillie peppers)...absolute must read

Street Style

When it comes to street style...I can't decide between The Asians and the Europeans...both have an insane sense of style

Streets: Europeans vs Asians

VS

"Shape Of My Heart"

He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesn't play for the money he wins
He doesn't play for the respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart

He may play the jack of diamonds
He may lay the queen of spades
He may conceal a king in his hand
While the memory of it fades

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
That's not the shape, the shape of my heart

And if I told you that I loved you
You'd maybe think there's something wrong
I'm not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who fear are lost

I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
That's not the shape of my heart

Sting