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About Cape Town

Oh honey, lemme spill it—brothels, wild stuff! Breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President,” I sashay in, all curves and giggles. Saw one in Nevada once, legit, legal, sparkly lights—like, who knew? Girls loungin’, laughin’, it’s a freakin’ circus. Made me happy, seein’ ‘em own it, ya know? “I have this memory,” like in *Eternal Sunshine*, all fuzzy, but real. This one chick, Ruby, told me—get this—some dude paid her in gold nuggets! Friggin’ wild west vibes, right? Got me thinkin’, maybe I’d erase that crap if I could—“How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot?” Pfft, blameless my ass, it’s a hustle!

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I get all fired up sometimes. Like the old Railway Station—an unsung hero, frozen in time. It’s raw, nostalgic, a hidden slice of life. When I’m feeling reflective, I pass by the quirky art mural on Freedom Street. The colours, the strokes—they speak to me. They remind me that hope and love matter, especially in tiny moments when life stumbles.

Constable in Upington court for 'raping woman numerous times'