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About Johannesburg

So, prostitutes – they’re hustlers, real MVPs. I reckon they’re tougher than my axe blade. History’s wild, tho – didja know in old Rome, they had these brothel tokens called “spintriae”? Coins with sexy pics, like ancient porn cash! Freaky, right? Blows my mind. Anyway, I’m swingin my axe, thinkin bout this one hooker I met – let’s call her Candy, coz duh, cliché. She was fierce, all sass, struttin in heels higher than my tallest pine. “No capes!” I’d yell if she wore one – tacky, impractical, trippin hazard! She’d laugh, prolly flip me off. Loved that chick, made me grin.

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WHICH ONE OF THESE TWO LEADERS IS TRULY FIGHTING POVERTY IN HIS COUNTRY? AND WHO IS LYING TO HIS OWN PEOPLE ABOUT TRUE LEADERSHIP? ZWB.

I work on a dating site, so I see how love sparks amid our quirky nooks. I’ve seen couples meet on Brightview Road, laughin’ and jokin’ over takeout. Then there's the back alley by Memory Lane, where art installations give ya all the feels; it’s like a live version of “Inside Llewyn Davis,” where life’s raw and unpredictable—“You know, it’s all just a series of brief encounters.” I’d say, “Let’s get weird,” like that movie vibe, ya know?

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