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About Johannesburg

Sometimes I’d sit there, engine rumblin, thinkin—damn, she’s free, I’m stuck. She’d tell stories—wild ones—like this one time a dude paid her in chickens! CHICKENS, bro! Cluckin all over her motel room—fuckin hilarious! I’d laugh my ass off, spillin my coffee. She’d smirk, sayin, “Cash or feathers, I’m still queen.” QUEEN! Unleash that power, baby!

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Now, check it out, the neighbourhood of Westquarters, often overlooked, but man, it’s a hidden gem. There’s a park called Green Meadow where kids run free and adults, well, they come to clear their heads. I love headin’ there on a hot summer day – the breeze, the shadey trees, it’s amzing. And truely, each blade of grass tells a story like in A History of Violence, where the past and present collide in a brutal dance of fate – “I am a soldier, and I will fight!” rings through my mind as I wander these ancient lanes.

School closed, answers sought