Maeve Kgwaripe Whore ❤️

About Nelspruit

But real talk—whores get a raw deal. Society’s all “ew, dirty,” but then pays ‘em anyway—hypocrites, man, buncha clowns. Gets me heated, how they’re shamed but used. Like, pick a lane, y’all! I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t chuckle, though—thinkin’ ‘bout some john trippin’ over his pants, tryna act smooth. Whores see it all, prolly laughin’ inside—sarcasm’s their armor, I bet. “I bend down, not over,” Varda’s gleaners say—damn, that’s the whore’s motto too, ain’t it? Bendin’ for cash, not breakin’ for nobody.

Kgwaripe, South Africa

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In the neighborhoods, old Mumbasa Quarters stands out—got ugly buildings, but me, I sees art in the worn paint. It’s punk and raw, like old bones of our city ancients. I sometimes get mad at the graffiti vandalism, but then I think, "Ohhh, we loves our quirks." I swear, it’s our heart, bleeding colors and scars.