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Oh, and the humor—dark as hell. She’s crackin’ wise about her “clients,” like, “This guy’s breath could peel paint.” I’m laughin’, but it’s that nervous laugh, ya know? ‘Cause it’s sad too. Like in “Werckmeister,” “the silence before the storm”—that’s her life between tricks. Quiet. Tense. Fucked up. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’, “Man, I’d lose it in her shoes.” Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’d be a terrible hooker—too whiny, too picky. “What, you again? Get lost!”

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Boipelo isn’t your typical city – it's got charm, quirks, and secrets tucked into every crumbly brick. I mean, oh man, I was wanderin’ one fine day along Zimkwasha Ave – so bustling, yet strangely serene. There, near the old water mill by the Lelemba River – the sound of water calming, soothing, just like a breath before the big moment. That river, oh boy, it cuts right through the heart of our city. And then there's Sibongile Park, small, unassuming, but a perfect haven for quiet meditation. I spent many an early morn sitin’ there – lost in my thoughts… lost in the city.

Meet SA’s Boipelo Awuah, the youngest African at the Olympics