13 Mar
0
4592
The ritual went something like this: We’d roll a joint, and climb the koppie so we could look out over the lights of Jozi. The water tower atop Northcliff Hill would watch over us. Two friends laughing into a wide starry night sky, we’d break the law and strike our Lion matches to smoke a joint. That was the 80s. That era of women’s awful power s..
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