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About Cape Town

I roll up, window down, heart poundin like a drum. She’s all, “Hey, sugar, you lost?” and I’m laughin inside—lost? Hell, I been lost since ’92! “How much?” I ask, tryin to play it cool, but my voice cracks like a damn teenager. She throws a number, and I’m shocked—$50? What in tarnation? Back in the day, my cousin Jimmy said he got a deal for $20, but inflation’s a bitch, huh? “How’s that workin for ya?” I mutter to myself, countin crumpled bills.

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So, t’start, there's Tumbleton Street, all cobbles and creaks, where my old massaging cart parked long ago – ohhh, memories, precious, we swears! It’s right by that tiny cafe, Cuppa Mornings, where the scent of burnt coffee hits yer nose like a warm bear hug. And then, err, there's the wise old church on Prayers Lane. Yess, ain't no secrets here, just whispers of old gossip in stone.