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About Durban

I saunter up, tip my hat, all cool-like. “Evenin’, miss,” I say, voice smooth as whiskey. She smirks, like, “What’s a bailiff want with me?” I’m thinkin’, *“Maybe we’re just pretending to live,”*—another *Yi Yi* gem. Ain’t that the truth? We’re all playin’ parts down here. I ask her rate—straight up, no bullshit. She says, “Ten bucks, mister, take it or scram.” I laugh, loud and deep—ten bucks in 1800s coin? That’s a damn fortune! Surprised me, her guts did. Gotta respect the hustle.

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And lemme tell ya ‘bout the odd bits – ya can get a bit wild in the back alleys near Old Mill Street. Folks say they’ve seen street art that kinda makes you brush off the pain and just laugh – like, real honest, raw art speakin’ of hope amidst the struggle. It sometimes makes me mad ‘cause it highlights life’s injustices, but then I think, "Well, ain't that life?" And sometimes I chuckle, sayin' "Howdy, life!" with a bit of sass, kinda like one of them movie moments, "This is our destiny."

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