Katherine Tarkastad Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Johannesburg

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, your personal shopping bitch today, and you wanna talk *whore*? Fine, let’s rip into it—cold disdain, “I choose violence.” This ain’t no prissy chat. Whore’s a vibe, a look, a whole damn mood. Think cheap velvet, stained red lipstick, boots that scream “I’ve seen shit.” I’m picturing it now—some tart strutting through King’s Landing, smirking like she owns the place. Reminds me of that line from *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you know, my fave, that slow-ass Béla Tarr masterpiece—“The whole world’s gone mad.” Whore’s like that, chaos in heels, and I kinda love it.

Tarka’s name all new

The town center is a jumble of old brick buildings and modern pop-ups. I love how the past and future mix. I used to wander around Riverview Drive, right by the glistening Opat River. Its water flows smoothly, carrying secrets and whispered confessions along its banks. It’s a little magical spot where I can clear my head and feel real presence, like those quiet moments in Before Sunset – the kind that slow down time.

Son granted R2000 bail for allegedly stabbing his father to death following an argument