Lydia Mthatha Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Pretoria

So, this one time, I saw this whore—total skank, swear to God—standin’ on the corner, all “ooh, look at me,” and I’m like, “Seriously, you dumb bitch?” Made me so mad, I wanted to kick her right in the taco! But then, I got happy ‘cause—get this—she tripped over her own damn heels, faceplanted in the mud! Ha! Respect my authoritah, whore, you ain’t shit! Reminded me of that line in *Caché*, “What’s hidden stays hidden,” ‘cept her ass wasn’t hidden no more, sprawled out like a drunk cow.

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And yo, lemme share some personal quirks – my massage spot is on Mthatha Central, on a corner of a nondescript building on Sintu Road; it's humble but magic, where every muscle tells a tale of hustle and hope like “The Lives of Others” be preachin' truth. Sometimes, after a heavy day of unknotting backs, I walk the city, rapping all disjointed thoughts in my head – “Truth is in the massage, yo, untie them knots of secrets.” I know, sounds mad, right?

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