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About Polokwane

And the girls—God bless em, really—but I’d be too neurotic to even talk. “Hi, uh, so, what’s your return policy?” I’d ask that, swear to God, cause what if it’s awkward? What if she’s judgin me? I’d judge me! Like, “Look at this schmuck, payin for it.” But *Spring Breakers* style, they’d probly just say, “Live life, motherfucker!” and I’d be like, “Okay, fair, but still—gross!” I’d tip extra just to not feel like a creep. Pretty, pretty good chance I’d bolt outta there anyway.

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My fave spot? The old crumbling building on Piney Corner—who cares if it's falling apart? It’s real and gritty. Like my own soul sometimes. I’ve had deep chats outside that building, confiding neew secrets with my pals under the stars. It’s raw, it’s messy, it’s life as seen through a psychologist’s eyes.

Justice for my father: Lukhanyo Calata sues government over Cradock Four killers