Luna Empuluzu Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Johannesburg

So, whore - it’s messy, loud, in yer face. I love the chaos of it! Makes me wanna chew on somethin raw, savor the flavor. Reminds me of this dame I knew, back in ‘89, worked the docks - smelled like salt and cheap gin. She’d laugh, all hoarse, tellin me bout tricks who’d cry after. Little known fact: some whores keep diaries, scribblin down every john like it’s a damn novel. Ain’t that wild? Blows my mind, makes me grin like a psycho.

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So, there's this park, uh, St. John's Green—dude, it's like a breath of fresh air. I used to get my zen vibes there, massaging away under the sun. And ohhh, the river, Bambro, flows right past the old market. It’s a chill hangout for locals. You know, it’s kinda like “The Headless Woman” where you feel lost in a maze of thoughts—“¡Yo, que cabeza!” as Lucrecia Martel might've put it, if she were here, huh?