The balcony is his observatory. His cosmic perch. His Sea Point anthropology lab.

Every night, he steps out with a spliff and lets the world reveal itself in slow, ridiculous fragments.

Joggers negotiating with their knees.

Dog-walkers negotiating with their dogs.

Couples negotiating with each other.

Teenagers negotiating with their identities.

Old men negotiating with gravity.

He inhaled. The THC suit activated. Time softened.

And suddenly — he understood human nature.

Humans are just animals trying to look purposeful.

Every stride, every gesture, every sigh — all of it is theatre. Beautiful, chaotic theatre.

He exhaled, watching the smoke drift into the night.

“Human nature,” he whispered, “is just nature with anxiety.”

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Memory is the architecture of meaning.