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About Cape Town

So, I’m out there, streets buzzin’, lookin’ for that hustle. Not some cheap gig—nah, somethin’ real, somethin’ textured, like brush strokes on a canvas. I’m dodgin’ cops, ‘cause they’re always sniffin’ around, ruinin’ the vibe. And lemme tell ya—prostitution’s old as dirt, right? Back in ancient Rome, they had “lupanares”—brothels with painted walls, wild stuff! Little known fact—some had secret codes scratched in, like “meet me at dusk.” Kinda poetic, huh? Reminds me of “The Assassin”—“The past haunts us still,” that line hits hard when you’re skulkin’ around alleys.

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I gotta confess, I keep a little scrapbook of moments from around town—like an ode to those mysterious nights over a faded sunset at the University botanical gardens. It’s wild, raw, and all kinds of imperfect, just like me. And sometimes, in those raw moments, I catch myself whispering, "Time, please don’t EVER stop. I’m lovin’ every damn minute!"

Potchefstroom basks in a beautiful 38°C day