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About Durban

So, imagine this, pal. You’re strollin’ down some grimy street—happy little shadows dancin’. I’d be whisperin’ to myself, “Just keep it chill, Bob.” Lookin’ for a prostitute ain’t like pickin’ daisies. Takes guts, or maybe stupidity—ha! Streets got their own rules, ya feel me? Like that line, “I didn’t see anything.” Total denial, but you’re *lookin’*. Eyes peeled, heart racin’ a lil.

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Walk down Union Street – yeah, that's right, straight down the middle of chaos – and you'll bump into all sorts of characters. In my line of work – yes, I run the most kick-ass massage joint in town – I see secrets that most peasants wouldn’t dare whisper about. I’ve seen stressed-out academics sprinting like headless chickens on Lower East Street, and the damn art students railing on about "post-modern despair," like they’ve got a soul or something.

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