Tyrwhitt Avenue

Johannesburg – the concrete jungle

Johannesburg – allows my language to be heard

The streets are my blank paper and every day I adjust each verse.

Each stanza speaks the words I fail to say with my lips.

Fashion lives through those shy, conservative,and sometimes the wild persona’s we create.

Fashion’s language differs in each city, but her words should never dictate what you want to say.

Fashion differs in Cape Town, she speaks inland winters in Johannesburg and sunny Durban fabrics which drape and shamelessly adorn the human form.

The face I almost passed – Out of the element feature in Randburg.

I called this picture ‘CULTURE IN THE QUEEN’ – this woman oozed a sense of belonging even though the walls which surrounded her beauty didn’t own her.

Through a Peter Pan collar, high-waisted shorts and brogues, I could be the young traveller in search of the next big moment to inspire my life.

I love her outfit. Tumi looks, sexy yet the man – the tomboy takes over with such sass … Her introvert persona just blesses this entire ensemble.

I have found Joburg to be the eye opener I think I needed.

The streets, the people, they allow you to become an individual fixture in all this hustle and bustling we do. I find myself taking snapshots of the faces and different interactions I come across, and in those snapshots I can slot myself in – a different language, a different culture yet it completes a frame. A frame that makes up who I am and yet to be.

Look out – sickest view of East London.

This city embraces the damned, broken and misunderstood only to reshape them into her ornaments.

Johannesburg is a culture.

Her skyscrapers and torn down caves bleed culture.



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