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About Johannesburg

Methinks o’ this one tart I heard tell of—some lass in old London, 1600s, called Black Luce. Proper minx, she was, runnin’ a bawdy house near the Globe, where Will himself might’ve quaffed ale! Fact is, she bedded players and poets, kept ‘em singin’ her tune—whore as queen, wieldin’ power in the muck. Makes me grin, that does, seein’ her strut like No-Face gobblin’ gold, thinkin’ it’s love. “Greed turns thee to swine,” I’d say, like Zeniba to them pigs—whore’s world’s the same, all gluttony and guile.

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And then there’s Main Street near the old library—oof, I sometimes stumble on my foot there (so clumsy, right?) on a busy afternoon and a lady reminds me: "We all have our moments." Gosh, it’s so real. Oh, and the little retail shops on Andrew's Lane—if you’re a sucker for vintage stuff and local art, you'll freak out with delight. The street art on the walls always speaks to me like, “Find beauty in the small things!” Classic teacher moment.

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