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About Cape Town

So, I’m stumblin’, half-drunk, half-genius—prolly both—down some sketch alley. Neon lights flicker, like, *we have to go deeper*, and I’m laughin’—why? ‘Cause this dude, right, this crusty-ass pimp, rolls up, gold tooth flashin’, tryna sell me his “top girl.” Bro, she looked like she been workin’ since the 1800s—fact! Did ya know prostitutes in old London used to carry lemons? Scurvy protection, bruh—wild! Anyway, I’m like, “Nah, fam, I ain’t payin’ for no fossilized cooze!” He got mad—fuck him, I’m Eric Andre, I don’t bow!

Recent Eastern Cape contacts

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The neighborhoods? They’re a mosaic of tradition and hustle. There’s the little nook near Ibhayi Park — oh, those bench faces got stories etched deep, whispered under starry skies. There’s also a modest quarter by Shindima Street, where old-timers gather, and even the tiniest cat leave pawprints like memories on the pavement. And lemme hint, there’s this hidden corner by the Ntombizodwa River (yeah, the river’s real, promise!) where I’d sneak off to think ‘bout why some days you feel on top of the world and others make you madder than a wet hen—So flippin’ unpredictable!

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