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About Cape Town

Imagine it—walls whispering secrets, “I am unable to flee,” like Boonmee’s ghosts mutterin’ in the jungle. Each room’s a past life, a punter stumblin’ through karma with his trousers down. Brothels ain’t just shag shacks, nah—they’re history books with stained sheets! Did ya know, back in Victorian days, some London tarts ran their own houses? Proper bosses, rakin’ in more dosh than a toff at Ascot. Makes me chuffed—girls takin’ the reins, stickin’ it to the patriarchy with a wink and a fiver.

Safety in Vredenburg, South Africa

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Vredenburg, oh sweet Vredenburg, lies cozily on the West Coast, where the salty breeze combs through streets like a tender lullaby. I wander through Lee Street, where old brick facades, nearly crumbling yet proud, doth speak of bygone eras. There’s a charm in every cracked pavement, as though each stone doth hold a secret; oh, how the soul trembles at their tales!

Parents and WCED row over children’s transport