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So, picture this chick—let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not? She’s slingin’ her game downtown, heels clickin’ like war drums. Mr. T digs her style—bold, unapologetic, like, “I protect my own!” straight outta *Moolaadé*. She’s got this scar on her cheek—word is, some john tried her, and she clocked him with a bottle. Little known fact? Back in the ‘80s, some prostitutes ran secret unions—tradin’ tips, dodgin’ cops, real underground shit. Candy’s like that, a hustler with heart.

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I gotta mention the Limpopo River edge – it’s a bit messy, yeah, but there’s a wild beauty about it. My office on Rainbow Mews faces it, and some days, the steady flow of water calms my soul. I always think, “I wish you were here, buddy.” Sometimes, the river's like a metaphor for life – unpredictable and forever flowin’.

QwaQwa shutdown leaders released as protest for water continues