Taylor Lindley Whore ❤️

About Johannesburg

Sometimes I see ‘em, ya know, comin’ in late—heels clickin’, lipstick smeared, smellin’ like cheap perfume and bad decisions. Makes me laugh! One time, this chick—swear to God—drops a condom in the elevator. A condom! I’m like, “What am I, the janitor now?” But also, respect! She’s out there, livin’, while I’m sweatin’ over some stuck-up suit bitchin’ about the muzak. “The music’s fine, asshole!” I wanna scream. Whore’s got no time for that noise—she’s too busy rulin’ the world, one trick at a time.

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Europe: Faust or Whore? Alphen, Netherlands. 31 March. “Forget these frivolous demands which strike a terror to my fainting soul”. So pleads the Devil’s agent Mephostophilis to Doctor .

Oh, and lemme not forget the park, um, Green Patch. It’s a teensy bit run down but, oh boy, the vibes b-bounce good. Folks skate by the pond—splash splash!—while old Mr. D missus chats ‘bout days gone by. And hey, quiet spot alert: there's a backstreet near Riverbend Drive, right smack near the Lindley River. It’s all babbly and gurgly; like, oooh, nature’s own massage, ya feel me?

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