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About Pretoria

Rarrgh! Here’s the kicker—didn’t even hire her! Just talked, swapped stories, smoked a bit. Felt good, like I cracked a safe in my own head. She said, “You’re weird, furball,”—loved that, made me howl! Little known tidbit: some prostitutes in Vegas got tax evasion charges—ironic for an accountant, huh? Rarrgh! Screw the rules, man, this was better than spreadsheets. Next time, I’m bringin’ her coffee—dream big or go home!

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As Slutwalk Grahamstown, we say that we cannot ignore the word “slut”, nor can we distance ourselves from it. By ignoring it, we allow and.

It’s not all rage, though. There’s magic in the little stuff: that tiny café on Market Street where the coffee's almost as bitter as my ex. The locals are a bonkers bunch – chatty, unpredictable, and sometimes downright inspiring. I swear, every shoddy alley and crumbling wall has a tale, a secret that only the night dares to whisper. Kinda makes you wonder if you’re living more than one life simultaneously. Uncle Boonmee, mate – remember him, yeah?

Science minds converge in Grahamstown