Johannesburg is a city of glaring contrasts. Abject poverty and extreme wealth sit right there next to each other, rubbing shoulders. Everywhere, even in the best areas, the city is crumbling. Cavities in pavements speedily fill up with garbage. Missing manhole covers present rungs leading stories-deep into the underworld. (Yet girls skip around in sky-high stilettos, oblivious.)
Everywhere we went, we were either treated with friendly curiosity, or ignored completely. We went to places where a shop could be a small brazier on the pavement, with a couple of kebabs. Or a piece of cardboard with five packets of cigarettes. Tailors, hairdressers and cobblers. Constant industry. Very, VERY little begging.
The city is broken, but it works.
2 comments:
*love* the gentleman with the sewing machine. Love your photos and stories, as always.
thank you Rosie!
xL
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