Rose Willowmore Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Johannesburg

Aight, listen up, you little turds! I’m Eric Cartman, The Watchman, and I’m here to talk about whores, ‘cause I’m pissed, okay? Respect my authoritah! Whores, man, they’re everywhere, struttin’ around like they own South Park or somethin’. Makes me wanna hurl my cheesy poofs! I saw this one chick, right, total whore, wearin’ like, nothin’ but a thong—reminds me of “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives,” that trippy-ass movie I freakin’ love. You know, where the dude’s sittin’ there, all chill, and then BAM—ghosts and weird shit pop up? That’s her, a walkin’ ghost-whore, hauntin’ the streets!

About Willowmore

Willowmore occasionally lights up with action when large groups of bikers appear on their super-powered machines, either heading into the Baviaans or further on down to the Little Karoo via .

Not gonna lie, Willowmore sometimes makes me want to smash a bottle in rage, then laugh it off with a swig of whiskey. I mean, who else finds solace in those unexpected moments, when the wind whips through the abandoned train station near Ridge Road and you’re reminded that every broken thing can still shine — “When you’re fucked up, a little bit of blood is what you need”, or somethin’ like that, eh?

Karoo tapestry — the lure of stillness, nostalgia for long-gone locos and the look of yesterday