The moment you walk through the door (or what isn't really a door, but an ingenious set of swivelling metal plates), you feel it. The texture, that is. It's not quite rough, but not quite so refined that it could fit into a restaurant chic enough for the type of girls you know can only be kept happy by apple martinis and Ferraris. Rather, it's a texture that feels like it's been around for a while. On the floor, it's been walked over by your grandmother on her way to the stove to tend a delicious stew. On the walls, it's been purposefully left in a state which says "I know what my purpose is: to shield you from the elements". On the assortment of plush couches, it invites you to sprawl out in the kind of comfort you appreciate on a cold winter's evening, with the wind howling outside. The texture's everywhere, even more pronouncedly so in the art which lives in the in-house gallery.

Set against a backdrop of careful minimalism, the Karoo Cafe invites you to enjoy food the way you would at home. You wouldn't be nervous about strolling over to browse the bookshelf while waiting for your partner at home, and aren't in the Cafe either. While you do, casually mention to the waiter at hand that a drink would be nice. You'll be politely answered without the stiffness you'd expect in what people sometimes call "upmarket venues". Why? Because you're just asking for a drink, which your host is just gladly providing . Want to sit down? Do so without pressure, because there's always room to spare - the Cafe doesn't subscribe to conventional populism, it doesn't need to. It doesn't need to do a lot of things, not least among them pretend to be anything it isn't - a fact which is clearly evident in your experience. There are no claims of cordon bleu perfection. No claims of being the place to be seen. No claims of being chic or hip or hot or happening. Rather, the collection of people who regularly enjoy the relaxed atmosphere are just themselves, like the Cafe itself. Which means (logically really) that you're also free to be, well, just yourself. No need to dress up, down, sideways or any other direction. You see, not being yourself dictates that things be artificially manipulated, that those little nuggets of character which are always so rewarding to find be polished out. It dictates that texture be removed. Luckily, texture cannot be removed from what you experience at the Cafe; it's part of the place, and you can't help but feel it.

The Karoo Cafe, Lynnwood Road, Pretoria
0724080909

...now that winter is here.

I'm not usually a meme fan, but since Victoire asked so nicely...

• Take a stroll in the forest after it's rained - There are few things as refreshing as being in nature after it's taken a nice bath. That smell of wet bark, the sounds of birds frolicking in puddles of water, the crispness in the air. Love it. Wait, did I just use the word "frolicking"?
  
  
• Catch a sunrise - Yes, it means getting up really early for a change (admittedly a tough thing to do when it's freezing), but then again the tougher something is to get, the more rewarding it tends to be. Preferably done on a day without rain.
  
  
• Read. On the couch. Under a fluffy blanket - Diving into a good book is always nice, but even more so when it's done in plush warmth with the wind and rain howling outside.
  
  
• Slip your feet into a pair of sheepskin wool slippers - I received a pair as a birthday gift last year. Slipping into these puppies after a hot shower is to your feet what a nice warm hug is to your soul.
  
  
• Give a nice warm hug - Need I say more?

So there I was, ripping apart the remains of the top of the cabinet. The detached bottom part was being transformed (by way of some sawing, sanding,wood filling and painting) into my brand new TV unit/stand.

As I pulled the pieces of chipboard and laminate apart, one of the shelves tilted over and fell onto my foot. The series of nails protruding from it flashed through my thoughts as it hit my shoe, puncturing the soft canvas on top and sticking straight through. Oh shit. I felt a sting, and was convinced that one of the nails had gone straight through my big toe. Adrenaline has a habit of numbing pain, apparently... I scurried to remove my shoe and sock, and as I did so (expecting a gush of blood), there was only a slight graze down the side of my toe. The nail had missed it by literally a millimetre.

For the next 30 minutes, I painstakingly pulled out or flattened every single nail and staple on every single piece of wood. Lots of them, in case you were wondering. Even though everything was going to be discarded as building rubble the next day, I felt compelled to remove the danger from this heap of junk. It wasn't someone else's problem to prevent harm to others, it was mine.

Something similar happens every time a taxi drives past me and a passenger carelessly tosses a plastic wrapper out the window. I wonder what they're thinking. It's always puzzled me. Over the last few years, I've come to the conclusion that most people spend less time thinking about things than I previously assumed. I wanted to ask "why?", but then I realised that it might actually be a better idea to ask "why do I think so much about things?"...

You see, whenever I see something out of the ordinary happen, whenever I meet someone interesting, whenever I discover a new concept, whenever I stumble across something I can see has been carefully crafted, I think about it. I don't just think, I consider in-depth. I try to understand the story behind the event, the history behind the person, the logic behind the concept, the motivation behind the craft. If I don't understand it at first, I try to find out more; and then I do a little more thinking. I want to know how and when. I want to know where. Most importantly, I intensely want to know why. It's never-ending for me, this curiosity. It's subconscious. When I'm walking down the road on an average day, I'll be trying to figure out how to better explain point A to Person X, when I walk back I'll be trying to make sure that what I've decided is correct before I put things into action. As silly as it sounds, it's always been this way for me, it's always been a way of doing I've cherished. I don't quite know why, but I do know that I really want to know why. I guess it's simple really:

I do not want to be indifferent, ever.

Right now, I've been told that I need to be indifferent. Something has happened in my life that has prompted me into trying to shift my mindset towards being less curious about the "why", to be less involved. I've been making a serious, concerted attempt to stop this involvement and consideration. I've failed so far.

I refuse to not let things affect me, to disregard them. I refuse to not continue to be curious about the why, even though I know that I may not understand it. I accept the reality of the situation (after all, reality cannot be faked), but I refuse to distance myself from the matter at hand, as much as I've been advised about the wisdom of such a choice. Most of all, with all my heart, I refuse to stop caring just because caring is to my detriment at this point, or at any other point.

I refuse to be indifferent, and will continue to do so.