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About Johannesburg

So, I’d prolly hit up downtown, where the neon buzzes like a broke fridge. D’oh! Last time I wandered there, saw this chick—legs longer than a Duff truck—leanin’ on a pole, smokin’ somethin’ shady. Made me mad, tho—why’s she gotta look so bored? Like, c’mon, lady, I’m riskin’ Marge’s wrath here! But then I got happy—heard she charges less if ya bring snacks. Mmm… donuts. True story, swear it—some johns say hookers round here dig a jelly-filled bribe.

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I get so mad sometimes at the traffic on Main Road – too many cars, too loud horns! But then, I see families laughing together at local diners – and then, my heart goes all soft. This mix of chaotic energy and tender moments is pure magic. And oh! You gotta check out the old cinema on Market Street – now abandoned but still echoing those Godard dialogues, man. Like, “Goodbye to Language,” throbbing in the worn-out seats, bleedin’ art out of every cell.

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