Harper Margate Whore ❤️

About Johannesburg

Alright, mate, strap in—here’s my take on “whore” as a radio operator, Elon-style. Whore’s a word, right? Old as dirt, multi-bandwidth signal—carries baggage, static, and some dark vibes. Kinda like a Tesla coil sparking in a storm, unpredictable, messy, loud. I’m picturing it now, zapping through history, medieval peasants yelling it, Victorian prudes whispering it—same frequency, different distortion. Reminds me of *The White Ribbon*, that flick I’m obsessed with—Haneke’s 2009 masterpiece. “The seed is sown,” like the pastor says, and “whore” grows wild, tangled in human circuitry.

403 - Permission Denied

Margate’s neighborhoods are pure characters itself. Ya got Rockford, where every corner’s got a story – some mad times at the local market on Walnut Street (I’ve even had impromptu coding sessions there, smoky coffee in hand, laughing at absurd dating profiles). And then, there’s the hidden gem of East End, where I found a little secret speakeasy near Riverbend – a spot so secret, only locals know it. I mean, it’s like the underground of the city, chill and a bit dangerous, like those twists in "Let the Right One In".

Best podcasts of the week: Sheridan Smith’s dangerously bingeable Margate murder mystery