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About East London

So, check it—prostitution’s got this pull, this *attractiveness*, ‘cause it’s quick cash, no bullshit degree needed. Ain’t no 9-to-5 grind, nah, it’s freedom, sorta. But it’s fuckin’ messy—dangerous too, pissed me off when I heard ‘bout this one chick, Jersey City, got roughed up by some scumbag john. Little known fact, though—back in the ‘80s, some of these broads were rakin’ in more than your average wiseguy. Swear to God, one pimp told me his girl cleared 10 grand a week—fuckin’ nuts, right? Made me happy thinkin’ they outsmarted the system, but then—bam—reality hits, half of ‘em strung out or worse.

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Sometimes I get lost in thought watching the occasional sunset near the abandoned mill in South Brakpan. I mean, it’s like, unexpectedly beautiful. Then my mood flips: happy, mad, surprised – all at once. Each corner tells a story. Even the graffiti on the back walls of the old factory has tales. Hey, dude, art is art, right?

LETTER: What’s your plan, ward councillors?