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About Port Elizabeth

So, this gal—let’s call her Missy—she’s workin’ the docks. Not far from my boat, swear it! She’s out there, struttin’, fishnets torn, smellin’ like cheap perfume and regret. “How’s that workin’ for ya?” I holler in my head, Dr. Phil-style. She’s got guts, tho—hustlin’ while I’m haulin’ fish. Made me mad, seein’ her shiverin’ in the cold. Ain’t right—nobody carin’! But damn, she’s tough—tougher’n a barracuda.

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Now, lemme spill the tea on the ok, so-called landmarks: The Klerksdorp City Hall, an old-school building with chunky columns, always gets my mind racing with memories of change and hope. And then there's that tiny museum tucked away near Voortrekker Street. I often wonder about the city’s past, the struggles passed down, the whispered secrets of street corners. And don't even get me started on the local market near Strydom Street—you ain't seen bargaining until you've taken a spin there.

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