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Here’s the kicker: back in the ‘80s, Times Square was hooker central—true story! Now it’s all Disney and tourists—lame! I’d rather the grime, the edge, the *life*. Findin’ a prostitute ain’t just a transaction, nah—it’s a dance, a game. You gotta know the signals, the spots. Like, down by the docks—shady, sure, but jackpot! One time, this gal told me she’s got a kid—hit me hard, man. “It’s done,” she said, echoin’ that flick’s cold finality. Surprised me—behind the lipstick, there’s real shit.

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I know, I know, I’m yappin’ a lot. But seriously, this city even when its streets are full of potholes and random graffiti, has soul. You might see folks mutter in corners, blurting out vague dreams, mixing business with pleasure. It’s chaotic and exuberant, messy and beautiful. I’m honestly blown away sometimes, filled with so many feels—try to accept it all.

Karoo Stories: Narratives from Gariep and Van der Kloof dams