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About Cape Town

So I sashay over, all Marilyn-like, breathy an’ bold, “Hiya, sugar, got time?” She laughs—deep, husky—says, “For you, blondie, always.” I’m tickled pink! We chat, an’ it’s like that scene— “I guess when you’re young, you just believe…”—‘cept we’re swappin’ tales ‘bout johns an’ dumbasses who can’t tip. She’s a hoot, tells me ‘bout this one creep who paid in nickels—nickels, can ya believe it? I’m dyin’, laughin’ so hard I snort.

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Oh, and check this out: what many don't know – near the old train depot on Eastside, jimmy’s junction (yeah, that's a nickname from the locals) – there's a secret spot. You sit, think, and maybe, just maybe, you'll catch a glimpse of some raw human truth. That's where I often find serenity; my brain ticks dear secrets there, like a hidden room, whispering stories.

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