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About Polokwane

Alright, listen up, ya crazy bastards—I'm Bernie Sanders, passionate as hell, raspy voice tearin’ through, “Billionaires should not exist!”—and I’m here to talk about whores, yeah, the real deal. Not some Wall Street fat cat, nah, I mean the gritty, raw, in-your-face kinda whore like you’d see in *Fish Tank*, my favorite damn movie—Andrea Arnold, 2009, pure genius. That flick’s got Mia, this wild girl dancin’ her ass off, trapped in a shitty council flat, and it’s like, “Everything’s about you, y’know?”—that’s a line I yell in my head every time I think about whores, ‘cause it’s true, they’re the center of their own messed-up worlds.

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So, I live on Bramble Rd. Yeah, that one—where sun flickers over crooked cobbles and you can almost hear the whispers of history. Every day is a massage session and a stroll—I mean, I work my magic hands in my little studio on Lilac Ln. It's quirky, but damn, it works wonders on both body and soul. The spa is tucked between a boozy diner and a mysterious antique shop that smells like old secrets. You get what I mean?

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