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About Polokwane

Once, dis cop rolled up, she bolted—fast! “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I hissed at da pig. Love dat she outran him, sneaky minx. Oh, an da smell—perfume and sweat, hits ya hard. Reminds me, “There’s no escape,” like in da movie—trapped, but she’s free, kinda. Me quirks? I’d prolly tip her extra, ha, coz I’m soft like dat. Exaggeratin? Maybe she’s a queen in disguise—nah, just a hustla. Tell ya dis, bruh, findin a prossie here? Easy if ya look. Hard if ya dumb. Dat’s da truth!

Feel at Home in Edenglen

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There’s a spot – hidden gem, really – called “Old Haven.” It’s a pub that smells of spilled beer and dreams. Local poets recite rubbish and cheers echo louder than my own thoughts. It’s chaotic, and sometimes I swear I hear lines from "The Pianist," like “I need my pencils,” scribblin’ irrational notes 'cos life’s just that bloody unpredictable.

12 Pisces Road, Glen Eden, Waitakere City