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About Cape Town

I hate the fakeness. Everyone’s posin’, lyin’ about their height, their job. Met a gal once, said she’s a chef—couldn’t boil water. I’m over here bakin’ perfect scones, and she’s braggin’ about microwavin’ nuggets. Pissed me off. But then, one time, I matched with this quiet type—surprised me. We talked *Carol*, she got it, said, “What else is there?” like in the film. Almost made me smile. Almost.

Where is Mabopane located?

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Now, lemme spill: I love wanderin’ the less popular parts, where graffiti tells a hundred untold stories. Yo, there’s this one wall on a backstreet off Tembisa Road. It's all colors and voices, a free-for-all gallery. Never seen somethin’ like it anywhere else. It kinda takes me back to that line from “The Gleaners and I” — "each person gleaning their own truth from the fields." Nah, might be misrememberin', but ya get the point.

Mabopane taxi shooting: 'It was as if each of them had his own shooter in sight'