Rebecca Mthatha Whore ❤️❤️

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Happy bit? When she’s got guts—stands up to some pig, spits in his eye. Reminds me o’ WALL-E fightin’ them fat humans—small, scrappy, winnin’. Love that, makes me grin all wicked. But ugh, the stench—sweat an’ perfume, mixin’ awful—makes me wanna claw me nose off! Whore’s a riddle, see? Trash an’ treasure, all mushed up. “Stupid, fat hobbit!”—ya miss it, but I don’t! She’s WALL-E with no heart—just wheels, rollin’ over yer dreams. Ha! What a mess, eh, preciousss?

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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?

A new era for Mall of Mthatha, formerly known as BT Ngebs City