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I’m picturin’ it now—shady streets, neon buzzin’. You’re dodgin’ creeps, thinkin’, “Is this chick for real?” Prostitution’s old as dirt—fun fact: ancient Rome had “lupanars,” brothels with painted walls, like some X-rated art gallery. Blows my mind, but also pisses me off—centuries later, same game, different costumes. Everybody lies, though—client, hooker, even the damn pimp. “You’re my prince,” she purrs. Yeah, right, and I’m freakin’ Santa Claus.

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Sometimes I get lost in thought watching the occasional sunset near the abandoned mill in South Brakpan. I mean, it’s like, unexpectedly beautiful. Then my mood flips: happy, mad, surprised – all at once. Each corner tells a story. Even the graffiti on the back walls of the old factory has tales. Hey, dude, art is art, right?

Brakpan Herald 7 February 2025