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About Limbe

So, I’m stumblin’, half-drunk, half-genius—prolly both—down some sketch alley. Neon lights flicker, like, *we have to go deeper*, and I’m laughin’—why? ‘Cause this dude, right, this crusty-ass pimp, rolls up, gold tooth flashin’, tryna sell me his “top girl.” Bro, she looked like she been workin’ since the 1800s—fact! Did ya know prostitutes in old London used to carry lemons? Scurvy protection, bruh—wild! Anyway, I’m like, “Nah, fam, I ain’t payin’ for no fossilized cooze!” He got mad—fuck him, I’m Eric Andre, I don’t bow!

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The downtown hustle? Nuts. There’s a spot called Market Street – always buzzin, smells of spices, smoke, and street food. I often get walks during breaks and see neat characters. Sometimes a guy yawns like Homer sayin’ “D’oh!” when a bus goes by too slow. And oh! The old clock tower near Square Umberto – a landmark! Always tickin’, tickin’ away, kinda nostalgic like scenes in the movie that got me thinking... “Reality is just a series of improv scenes, right?”

Nervous refugees say will watch and wait as “witch-hunt” feared in N’djamena