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Spare change, please!

Updated: May 3, 2020

He's stood between two, chest high garbage containers, and to a rhythm of his own making he's drumming the top of these garbage containers; with a left, and a' right, and with swaying hips and two-step he's almost revelling in his dance. And yet the hook is asking for "spare change", and its Brick Lane, London, early Sunday evening and it looks like his rhythm has been dancing for a lot longer than just the Sunday I was there to see him.



“the landscape of City life, layered with his racial dynamics, a picture can re-assert a sense of agency in order to see something more than hat I saw in him, .”

Because of who he was, the position he was in, the effortlessness in making a plea almost sound fun, and there was something innate about him, something universal, and something about how his eyes pierced your conscience with the absolute of reality defining a retrospective moment.

At this particular juncture in the calendar year, again it's the prestigious month of October, a month where Black History has been given a month to revisit, with an African, cultural, and ideological focus, a month where artists will capture Afrocentrism in the spontaneous dance and movement of a paintbrush, a month where Black History Month talks will converse about the association with the cultural ideology; that is Afrocentricity, a month when dancers will jive, and comedians make jokes under a unified banner, self-respect will even wear Kenta cloth on a Monday, while myself, for my sins, saw the sin of his condition, a sin that the landscape of City life, layered with his racial dynamics, in a picture can re-assert a sense of agency in order to see something more than what I saw in him, especially in October.


Summing up Jim Jones; as he called himself, a picture of him was primarily overview scrutiny on testosterone, and while the month of October provoked a mood to conceptualize heritage, in terms of distinct, self-determination, self-realisation, and all things Kumbya in a pseudo-utopic world, essentially it was all very tragic, all very poetically afflicted, everything about him, captured in that moment alas all very acutely relevant.



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