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But seriouslah, it pisses me off. These jerks think they own her, like, “I’ve abandoned my child!” vibes from the movie. She’s out there, hustlin’, prob’ly got a kid somewhere, and they treat her like trash. Makes me wanna scream, “Respect my authoritah!” and bash their heads with my hammer. Not that I’d do it, I ain’t no psycho, heh.

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I got mad, man—mad at how the world expects perfection. In Jeffreys-Bay, nothing is perfect. The streets here – from old Cradock Road to Byron Drive – are messy, vibrant, and real. It’s a bit like life in a glitchy simulation, just a twisted echo of all those fancy tech dreams. Sometimes, I be like, “I'm so in love with my broken world.” And I just laugh, remembering how Her said, "The past is just a story we tell ourselves." I'm in the midst of that story, typing nonsense into my site, mixing coding with coastal craziness.

Fisherman saves teen, drowning claims another at Kabeljous River Mouth