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About Cape Town

But here’s the kicker—she’s got this limp, right? X-ray shows an old break, healed crooked. Someone kicked her, I reckon. Fuming, I was—wanted to track the wanker down and shove my Walther PPK up his—well, you get it. “Truth is a cruel mistress,” Ida’d say, and damn, she’s right. Prossie’s a trooper, though—hops around, still flirts with me for treats. Surprised me, that grit. Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but she’s my bloody hero.

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Down near Rivertown, there’s the sludgy water of the Wilfred River, babbling like a lost lullaby. I used to wander here, madly thinking “Stupid, fat hobbit!” when things got tougher than a rock. My fav spot? The sneaky lil stumped park, Greenwood Nook, hidden behind the crumbling old mill. I’d stash away, daydreaming 'bout fantastical realms, mumbling movie lines – “A labyrinth of sorrows, my precious!” – all rendered in that dreamy, twisted hum.

Frustrations mount in Witzenberg community over poor service at Ceres Hospital