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About East London

Me? I’d cruise slow, real slow. Like Lucrecia drivin’ after that crash. “I hit something,” she mumbles. That’s me—spot a girl, wonderin’. Is she legit? Or a trap? Pisses me off when cops lurk. Ruins the whole gig, man. Once saw this chick—tall, badass boots. Thought, “Damn, she’s fine.” Then—boom—undercover. Felt like the Emperor screwed me over. Hate that crap.

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Boipelo isn’t your typical city – it's got charm, quirks, and secrets tucked into every crumbly brick. I mean, oh man, I was wanderin’ one fine day along Zimkwasha Ave – so bustling, yet strangely serene. There, near the old water mill by the Lelemba River – the sound of water calming, soothing, just like a breath before the big moment. That river, oh boy, it cuts right through the heart of our city. And then there's Sibongile Park, small, unassuming, but a perfect haven for quiet meditation. I spent many an early morn sitin’ there – lost in my thoughts… lost in the city.

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