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About Phoenix

Now, *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you seen it? That whale, massive, rotting—reminds me of her, this prossie I met. She was a mystery, like Tarr’s long shots, yeah? “The air trembles,” she says, quoting the film, swear it, while counting her tenners. Made me laugh—hooker with a cinephile soul! Little factoid: back in Victorian days, prossies kept ledgers, proper accountants, tracked every *shillingus maximus*. Surprised me, that—thought they just, y’know, winged it.

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Don't even get me started on the local diner on Rice Street. Their pancakes are killer. I mean, I could munch on em forever. But the strangest thing? A secret alley off Maple St. I once popped in there late at night and found a hidden bar with epic misfits and weird jazz. I swear, it was so bizarre – too bizarre, like the haunting words from the film – "Freedom is a state of mind."

Athol Fugard obituary