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About Durban

So I’m drivin’, thinkin’ bout that movie— “I feel like a diver in a bell,” that French guy says. Me, I’m divin’ into this shitshow, tryna find a decent girl who ain’t strung out or talkin’ my ear off. Last week, I pick one up—cute, red hair, legs for days. She hops in, smells like cheap perfume and regret. I’m happy for a sec, like, “Fuck yeah, jackpot!” Then she starts yappin’— “My ex this, my pimp that.” I’m like, “Sweetheart, I ain’t your therapist, let’s keep this transactional!” Surprised me how they always got a sob story. Guess it’s part of the gig.

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The city pulses with life. Street markets, like that little hidden gem off Victory Road, bustle with colors, sounds, and the rich aroma of braai. Seriously, the smells – so intense, ya can almost feel 'em. I swear, on rainy days, the Mokopane River near Bophelo Drive sings a melancholic tune, just like that eerie echo in the film.

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