Kobus Cloete

Kobus has been the steady voice at the village’s bus station for decades, a fixture as reliable as the tides kissing the jagged coastlines. Raised in this wind-scoured village, he holds an intimate knowledge of both the ocean’s whispers and its rages, his past peppered with tales of fishermen lost to tempests. His nights are spent quietly listening to the crackling of wood in a smokehouse, where his father once taught him about life's fragile transience, watching over the fires that dry the day's catch.