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About Polokwane

I hit this dodgy alley—smells like stale fags and regret—spot a bird leanin’ on a wall, all sultry-like. “Groovy, baby!” I say, flashin’ me pearly whites. She’s givin’ me the eye, and I’m thinkin’, “This is it, the kill shot!”—straight outta Zero Dark Thirty, y’know? But then—bam!—some geezer stumbles out, drunk as a skunk, yellin’, “Oi, she’s mine!” Made me mad as a wet hen—nearly lost me cool, mate! I’m like, “Cool it, daddy-o, plenty of fish in the sea!”

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My spa’s on Dusk Ave., next to a super tiny coffee joint—Bean Me Up. There’s pure magic in that spot. Customers still talk about the duff lighting at sunset. Sweet memories. I love giving a massage while chatting about the absurdity of everyday life. "I’m a heart gonna break, a beacon of ephemeral splendor!" or sumthin’ like that, straight outta my brain riffin’ on Synecdoche vibes.

Two dead, 25 injured in Eastern Cape initiation school fire