Ryan Dennis

A new guilty pleasure of mine has been watching horror films. I used to scorn them for their predictability, cheap tricks and poor plot development. Now, I can’t get enough of them.

In 1939, Patrick Kavanagh left his farm in County Monaghan, Ireland, and moved to Dublin to become a writer. When he was young, he would recite poetry while working in the fields or scribble down ideas for his own poems while attending to other farming chores.

Farming is seldom at the heart of social and political controversy. That is not the case in South Africa, however.

President Cyril Ramaphosa has recently begun to make good on his promise to expropriate farmland owned by the white population and redistribute it to black citizens.

The baler greased and put in the shed. The insulated boots dug out from the cellar. The barn battened down and winterized.

All hail to the countryside when it comes to candy on Halloween. There were only a few houses on the roads in either direction – most of them relatives – but, boy, would they fill your bags up.

Recently, I went back to Berlin to visit an old friend. The German capital is a vibrant, international city known for its eclectic clubs and a willingness to accommodate all types of eccentricities and counterculture.