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About Port Elizabeth

So I hit this dive bar, stinks like vodka and regret. This chick, Natasha—fake name, obvi—comes up, all hips and smirks. “You want fun, da?” I’m like, hell yea, but I ain’t payin upfront, no way! She rolls her eyes, but I’m Eric fuckin Cartman—I don’t budge! “Respect my authoritah!” I yell in my head. She’s hot, tho—makes me happy, like, damn, Russia’s got game! Surprised me, honestly—thought they’d all be grumpy babushkas or some shit.

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The vibe's erratic, unpredictable, like a jumbled poem that never ends. Life in PVredefort is messy. And I'm all for that. I've had hours where I just sat on a cracked stoop near West End, watchin' birds and the occasional drunk stumble by. Lol, such moments – happy, pissed, confused, and real.

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