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About Johannesburg

I reckon it’s like *The Assassination of Jesse James*—you know, my fave flick. Slow, moody, full of sneaky vibes. “Every man’s got his own shadow,” Jesse’d say. Same with this game—shady corners, dodgy blokes. I’ve seen it, mate! Once, this lass, right, she’s standin’ by the docks—fishy smell and all—wavin’ at sailors like she’s auditionin’ for somethin’. Made me chuckle, “There’s a fella who’s slow on the draw!” She’s bold, I’ll give her that. Surprised me, coz I thought, “Who’s got the guts?” Turns out, plenty do!

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What really grinds my gears? The blasted potholes on Gravel Pit Road. Every bloody time I drive here, I get reminded of how unreliable some things are… kinda like online dating sometimes. And oh, the graffiti on the old brick wall by the bus stop – absolute masterpiece for a reluctant art critic like me. Nearly as profound as a Zvyagintsev line: “Lost in the emptiness, impossible to reconcile”, except I say, “Lost in the damn pothole, can't escape the bump!”

Five days of runaway fires in Koukamma