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About Cape Town

In the end, I’d walk away, no sermon, no cash—just a nod. “Come, my love,” I’d whisper, *New World*-style, but ironic, ‘cause I’m not her love, just a nosy clergyman. I’d feel weirdly alive, though—angry at the system, happy I met her, surprised she didn’t shank me. “I can see Russia from my house!” I’d yell, laughin’, ‘cause I see *somethin’* now—grit, guts, the real damn world. Prostitutes ain’t just punchlines—they’re people, and I’m shook.

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My days are hectic but small joys get me, rarrgh! Like at the local coffee joint on Market Street, my fav hang spot, where the barista hugs you with a smile, making every visit feel like a warm treat. And some days, I catch an old friend walkin’ by and remember chats filled with life’s ups and downs.

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