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About Cape Town

Used to cruise downtown, lights dim, heart pumpin. Felt like Darth fuckin Vader—rulin the galaxy, ya know? Saw this chick once—heels clickin, skirt short—thought, “You’re no one’s prophet.” She smirked, said, “50 creds, big guy.” Laughed my ass off—50 creds? Bitch, I’m Sith! Made me happy, her guts tho. Reminds me—Malik in the movie, he bargains too. “I kill you if I must,” he’d say. Didn’t say that to her, nah, too dramatic.

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Folks in Louterwater... oh, they got characters. Humble souls with secrets. I once massaged a fella who claimed he saw ghosts on Lavendar Alley. True story? Who knows, but his eyes said it all. And let’s not forget that old cinema on Raven Blvd. It shows cult classics and I swear, every time they roll "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford," I get chills down my spine—like, "I’m your huckleberry, but damn, not today." Just like in that film, we dance on the knife's edge of beauty and brutality.

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