Rose Rondebosch Whore ❤️

About East London

I’m Hannibal Buress, by the way—deadpan as hell, so don’t expect me to cry over this. Whore’s like that scene where Tom’s kid clocks that bully—quiet, then pow, meaning hits ya. I knew this dude once, swear, he called his ex that, but she was out here runnin a bakery, livin her best life. Irony’s thick, yo. Made me mad, tho—why’s it always gotta be a weapon? Like, chill, let her bake her damn scones.

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Oh, and lemme hit ya with a fact—Rondebosch used to be full of farms! Crazy, huh? Now, it’s all modern living mixed with history. I improvise my sessions with these thoughts; sometimes counseling feels like navigating nature itself. I'm often in my head sayin’, "what’s up, man?" Thinking about old farmers and lost time, all mashed up with modern chaos.

Rondebosch metamorphosing