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About Pretoria

Now, findin’ a prossie ain’t just walkin’ up and done, nah. There’s a code, innit. Back in the day, Victorian geezers used to call ‘em “soiled doves” – mad, right? Little fact for ya there. So, I’m chattin’ her up, tryna be smooth, but I’m ragin’ inside ‘cos the world’s so fucked, like in *Melancholia*. “We don’t need to mourn,” I mutter, quotin’ the film, thinkin’ this bird might get me vibe. She don’t, tho – she’s all, “What you on about, you nutter?”

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Man, I love our local park – Rondebosch Common, dude. It’s green, chill, and full of souls seeking peace. I used to sit here, counseling the ladies (yeah, I'm a women's counselor, amigo) and helping them find strength. It’s like every tree tells a story. Sometimes I get teary when I see folks healing, ya feel me? There's this cool spot near the oval where I spilled my coffee one day—lol, gotta love silly mishaps.

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