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About Port Elizabeth

But real talk, it pisses me off how folks judge ‘em. Like, chill, they’re just tryna eat! I mean, Jesse and Celine in the movie, they’re all deep and lovey, but whores? They’re out there grindin’, no poetic chats by the Seine. One time, I read this story—some chick in the 1800s, a whore, saved a whole damn town from cholera by warnin’ ‘em bout the water. Hero shit, right? Nobody talks bout that! Makes me wanna yell, “Where’s her statue, huh?”

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I was strollin' near Riverbend Park – you know, where that little stream splits off into quirky little rivulets – one of my fav chill spots to think about life, pleasure, and other smudged ideas. I even met this older dude who told me, "Bro, the city’s a freakin’ canvas." Damn, that hit me like an existential epiphany, like when you see those surreal scenes in Synecdoche, New York, right?

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