The burning has begun

Winter has descended on Johannesburg, and that means no rain for months. Dry and cold. Each piece of open ground, covered by tall, dead grass, is now prime to burn. Hardly a night will go by for the next couple of months when a hill won't glow orange, ash won't fall from the sky, and the sharp, acidic tang of burning grass won't waft down the alleys and streets like whore's perfume.