Ellie Redhill Whore ❤️

About Johannesburg

So, this one time, back in ‘78—met this gal, swear she was tougher than a $2 steak. Worked the corner near Wilmington, had a laugh that’d wake a coma patient. Told me—get this—whores in old Rome? Called ‘em *lupae*, she-wolves, ‘cause they howled for customers. Freakin’ wild, right? Made me chuckle, still does. But, man, it pissed me off too—how they’d get judged, ya know? Like Grace in *Dogville*, “she’s a gift,” they said, ‘til they chained her up.

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The neighborhood? Oh, it's somethin' else. Ya got the cozy vibes in Littleacre, where folks always greet ya with a "How’s that workin’ for ya?" kinda feel. And then there's Kingfisher Park – it's my go-to spot when I need a breather, ya know? Imagine strollin' along its winding trails, overhearin' the gentle hum of the Red River winding by. Sometimes I sit under a big ol' acacia tree, thinkin' 'bout life, much like that "Melancholia" feel – when everything's a bit heavy and beautiful all at once; as Lars von Trier kinda put it, "I don't find distressing beauty in the chaos around us." I reckon that's the vibe here sometimes.

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