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About Cape Town

Oi, you lot, listen up! I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, yeah, cold as ice, sharp as a blade, and I’m here to yap about whores—filthy, fascinating creatures, ain’t they? Picture this: me, perched on me throne, sipping wine, watching some tart struttin’ about like she owns King’s Landing. Makes me wanna scream, “I choose violence!” and toss her into the muck where she belongs. Whores, right? They’re everywhere—sneakin’ into beds, coin clinkin’ in their grubby paws. Reminds me of that mess of a film, *Requiem for a Dream*—you seen it? Gods, it’s my fave, all that despair, that raw, ugly want. “Ass to ass!”—that line, ugh, hits me gut every time. Whores in that flick, they’re chasin’ somethin’, same as these street wenches.

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Oh, and lemme not forget the river—Kulungisa River winds its way through the outskirts, but don’t forget its charm. I mean, it's not the grand Nile or nothin', but every ripple's like a whisper from the past. I used to sit by its banks when I was feelin' low, listenin' to the babbling water, and thinkin' "Hey, even in chaos, there's beauty." I was mad angry sometimes, see, but that river calmed me down every time.

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