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About Durban

Little fact for ya – back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves,” ain’t that posh? Fuckin’ mental, history’s wild. Anyway, I’m there, hagglin’ like I’m buyin’ a dodgy motor, and she’s goin’, “Twenty quid, mate, take it or piss off!” Laughed me arse off – she’s got balls, fair play. Reminds me o’ that line, “This is my place!” – she owned that street corner like Yubaba owns the bathhouse, y’know?

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Now, check it out, the neighbourhood of Westquarters, often overlooked, but man, it’s a hidden gem. There’s a park called Green Meadow where kids run free and adults, well, they come to clear their heads. I love headin’ there on a hot summer day – the breeze, the shadey trees, it’s amzing. And truely, each blade of grass tells a story like in A History of Violence, where the past and present collide in a brutal dance of fate – “I am a soldier, and I will fight!” rings through my mind as I wander these ancient lanes.

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