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About Johannesburg

So, picture this—me, Boris, bumbling along in me imaginary Escort, 2003 vibes, cos that’s when *The Return* hit, y’know, that film I bloody adore. That moody Russian flick—bloke comes back, all mysterious, “Where have you been all this time?”—and I’m thinking, mate, where’s me Escort been? Prolly rusting in some barn, poor sod. Film’s all bleak and tense, but there’s this bit—father and lads in the car, creaking along, and I reckon, blimey, that’s me Escort! Tough as old boots, carrying the weight of it all.

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And lemme tell ya ‘bout the odd bits – ya can get a bit wild in the back alleys near Old Mill Street. Folks say they’ve seen street art that kinda makes you brush off the pain and just laugh – like, real honest, raw art speakin’ of hope amidst the struggle. It sometimes makes me mad ‘cause it highlights life’s injustices, but then I think, "Well, ain't that life?" And sometimes I chuckle, sayin' "Howdy, life!" with a bit of sass, kinda like one of them movie moments, "This is our destiny."

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