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About Polokwane

Great Scott! Erotic-massage, huh? Wild stuff, man! I’m like, whoa, hands sliding everywhere, oiled up, steamy vibes. Reminds me of “Synecdoche, New York” – y’know, life’s a freaky stage, all slippery and weird. “We’re all hurtling towards death,” Kaufman says, but damn, an erotic-massage? That’s a detour worth takin’!

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Now, lemme spill: I’ve got 12 fav spots. One, the lamppost on Breezy Ln that glows like a beacon of hope. Two, the cracked pavement by Anderson’s Park where old timers share tall tales. Three, that ancient mural on King St that tells unspoken stories. Four, the secret doorway behind the bakery on Rose Blvd. Five, the abandoned theatre off Hewitt Circle. Six, the rhythm of the city on Junction Road. Seven, the slick, neon night market behind Old Town. Eight, the back alley pub on Quay Street. Nine, the little shrine at the corner of Mystic Way. Ten, the twisted old oak at Elm & Vine. Eleven, the graffiti along the rail track. Twelve, my own massage studio that’s seen a world of emotions.

Kenton sand dune war looms