Stella Cranbourne Whore ❤️❤️

About Perth

But—hah!—she’d wink, all sly-like, and I’d melt a bit. Surprised me, yeh, how them whores got guts! Takin’ what they want, no bows, no curtsies. “In the end, it’s all luck,” like that Zero lad said—whores live it, precious! Dodgin’ coppers, laughin’ at toffs—makes me grin, all crooked. Ever hear ‘bout Black Nell? Old tale, mate—whore who hexed a lord’s pecker! Swear it, shriveled up like a prune overnight! *cackles* True or not, I’d pay to see it!

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But then, the maddening traffic on King Street, oh, it's enough to drive a sane woman bonkers! Like, come on, people, where’s your sense of urgency or calm? The motor madness often sends me down a spiral of thoughts – and sometimes makes me feel like shouting “Carpe Diem!” in true Boris Johnson fashion. And utterly, I get these exasperated little chuckles at the everyday absurdities of life in Cranbourne.

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