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About Polokwane

So, I’m skippin’ down some shady street—thinkin’, “Whoa, this is nuts!” Kinda like defusin’ a wire, red or blue, pick fast or boom! Findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic, mates—gotta dodge the creeps, the cops, the “what the barnacle am I doin’?” moments. Once heard this wild tale—dude in Vegas, 1990s, paid a gal with a fake Krusty Krab coin! She took it, laughed, said, “Better than Monopoly money!” True story, swear on me spatula!

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In a research experiment, I tried to see how much of the human body can lawfully be put up for sale: by trying to sell as much of my own body as I could.

Sometimes, biking along the quiet sidewalks near Hamer Road, my mind races with thoughts – fast and slow, a bit like a mad dance! I mumble phrases like "I suppose life is just a marvelous, weird mosaic!" then—bam!—a sudden burst of laughter. And heck, sometimes I even feel like yelling “You shall not pass!” when the wind messes up my perfectly ruffled hair in the afternoon chill.

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