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About Port Elizabeth

Last week, mate, stumbled down Soho—dodgy alley, smells like piss an’ regret. Saw this bird, legs fer days, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Wotcha, love?” she goes, smirkin’. Made me happy, her sass, like she owned the night. We swears! Took me back to them movie scenes—sweaty, close, real. “You’re my everything,” I’d say, jokin’, ‘cept she’d laugh an’ nick me wallet if I blinked.

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It has a reputation for tolerance and progressive thinking, as a place for experimenting with love, sex and relationships.

Now, let me tell ya bout the East End – that's where the real gems hide. There’s this dodgy little corner off Makhanda Road where the city's pulse is raw and wild. Locals swear it’s the heart of every whispered secret and midnight debauchery. I’ve even heard that a certain backstreet near Violet Street is a rendezvous spot for lost souls and misfits – though I wouldn’t touch that shithole with a ten-foot pole!

The Soil returns to bring healing back to the people of Makhanda