Delilah Jan Kempdorp Whore ❤️

About Kimberley

We’s torn, precious—hate ‘em, pity ‘em. Sparrow once cried, drunk, sayin’ she dreamed of gardens, not grimy sheets. Felt a twinge, I did—soft fool, me! But then she robbed me blind next day—cunning wench! We hates it! “I can’t bear it,” Cathy sobs in the flick—me neither, luv, me neither. Whores—dirty, sad, funny mess. What’s yer take, eh? Bet ya never guessed they’d be so… complicated!

Businessman, wife and two young daughters killed in Mpumalanga

Iz not gon lie – got mad feelings too. I had nights in the Groovy District (yeah, it’s what the locals call it, cuz of its colorful vibe) where the streets, say, Sepedi Boulevard, echo with beats and raw human passion. It’s all gritty and heartfelt. Often I walked around, thinkin, "Damn, life's too short" – a whole vibe. Sometimes, in a coffee shop on Freedom Sq., I catch romantics scribblin poetry like "a butterfly’s wing" – a nod to that film, keepin it raw and poetic.

Missing Jan Kempdorp man: Family still searching for answers over two years later