Jordi Matas

Writing and wandering are two nearly impossible passions to live by nowadays. As a writer, Hoffman seems to have found his place, capturing people’s emotions, curiosity, and imagination. As a wanderer (in the 21st century!), he keeps on stumbling upon, now and again, those ever-elusive paths that lead not only to barely untouched worlds for him to experience, but also to unexplored mental territories for us, the readers, to unveil. Equipped with timeless equipment, and the need to find his Eden, he is moving only forward, without haste but without rest.” Jordi Matas Freelance documentary photographer...

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Ninell Robinson

What resonates deeply with me when delving into Hoffman’s reflections on his forays into the remote African bush is the profound love and respect he holds for this landscape and its inhabitants. Unlike many others, he refrains from sharing sensational, in-your-face close-up photographs of any animal, regardless of its size. Instead, he frequently voices his dismay at the lack of respect humans often exhibit for the sake of their own entertainment. His writings consistently express his desire to move through these environments with minimal disturbance, leaving behind no trace of his presence. He seeks to observe the bushveld in...

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P.A.O. van Zijl

If you seek to read about the intense up-close experiences and observations of a man that ventured into the vast wilderness areas of Africa where no roads or even tracks exist, mostly alone with only the very basic survival equipment, then this is the stuff for you. You will not hear about how well the latest SAT Phone works, or how quick the newest rooftop tent can be erected or even how cold the latest camping fridge keeps the beers. Instead, Hoffman will share with you stories, experiences and observations of life in Africa uncontaminated by technology gadgets and...

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Black Thorn Tress

On a Thorn

Below is an extract from my diary, which I decided to also read for you. Enjoy! It is just before midday. The grass here is patchy and the sun has baked the grey sand to a burn. The veld has become like an oven. The time has come to seek shade; cool down and have a drink. The only shade is from a few black thorn shrub-trees. At midday their shade is drawn in close and I have to crawl carefully through a tangle of thorny saplings to find decent cover. I have wiggled myself into a reasonably comfortable...

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