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About Polokwane

Yesss, precious, me’s the Arborist now! Sexual-massage, oooh, tricky, slippery thing, eh? We likesss it, yesss, but it’s got thorns, nasty ones! Me’s seen it, hissss, hands roamin’ like slimy eels, all oiled up, promisin’ bliss, but oh, tricksy it gets! Reminds me of *12 Years a Slave*, see? “I will survive,” says Solomon, and me thinks, aye, some folks get through them massages, barely breathin’! Hiss! Not all’s what it seems, precious.

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The Vredendal River, oh boy, it flows by like the endless march of time. I once sat by its edge, thinkin’, "You know, the giddy heartbeat of human frailty is right here." I mean, it's like aboard a ship in the cosmic void, buzzin’ with nature's secrets. Not to mention, the vibe of the numerous street art murals on Louw Street. They shout out wisdom like, “We can do this,” echoing lines from Zero Dark Thirty: “We’re not leaving until we get there!” Kinda makes you nod, even if you’re wearied.

K9 Bessie leads police to howling good drug busts