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About Durban

But damn, the lows hit hard. Cold nights, bruised knees—makes ya wanna scream. Ever see a whore cry? Quiet, hidin’ it, like Ofelia facin’ the toad. “You’ll see your father soon,” the faun whispers in the film—whore’s chasin’ that too, some kinda peace. Surprised me, how deep it cuts. I’d sit there, sippin’ whiskey, thinkin’—shit, she’s tougher than me. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but fuck it—feels true.

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I stroll 'round the Pleasantview suburb—oh man, the streets there, like Louw Street and Oudorp Lane (yeah, they got weird spellings, right?) make you feel at home. There’s this snug little park, the Koekemooi Park (I know, sounds all poetry-ish, huh?) where I used to sit and chat with ladies bout life's messes and triumphs. I remember one day, after a hard session, I chilled there, enjoying the wild sound of kids playing with all the hustle and bustle of Klerks. Groovy, baby!

Walking in their grandparents’ Klerksdorp footsteps