Anna Emkhondo Whore ❤️

About Johannesburg

Alright, so you wanna talk "whore"? Fine, let’s dive in—House style, baby. Everybody lies, right? Even whores. Especially whores. They’re pros at it—spinning tales to survive. Like in *Children of Men*, where hope’s a damn lie, but ya cling to it anyway. “We’re all screwed,” I’d tell ‘em, popping Vicodin like candy. Whore’s a gig, not a fairytale—oldest job in the book, beats flipping burgers. Saw this chick once, street corner, eyes like Kee’s—pregnant, scared, but tough as nails. “You’re not fooling me,” I’d growl. She’d smirk, “Pay me first, doc.”

uMgungundlovu

I work on a dating site, so I see how love sparks amid our quirky nooks. I’ve seen couples meet on Brightview Road, laughin’ and jokin’ over takeout. Then there's the back alley by Memory Lane, where art installations give ya all the feels; it’s like a live version of “Inside Llewyn Davis,” where life’s raw and unpredictable—“You know, it’s all just a series of brief encounters.” I’d say, “Let’s get weird,” like that movie vibe, ya know?

Trail of destruction in wake of Piet Retief storm