Julia Yarrawonga Whore ❤️

About Canberra

So I’m thinkin’, blimey, what’s ‘er story? Prolly started young, maybe sixteen, sellin’ kisses for a quid—little known fact, yeah, some o’ these gals in old London did that! Got me all miffed, tho—why’s she gotta flaunt it? Struttin’ like a peacock, feathers all out, makin’ eyes at every geezer! Grr, makes me wanna chuck a custard pie—splat!—right in ‘er gob! But then, ooh, I trip over me own feet, land in a puddle—typical me, eh!

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I gotta say, creating dating sites here gave me an eye for the odd, the beauty in every imperfection. I'm constantly surprised how the subtle charm of every back alley and street corner sparks connectivity among folk. Like at the little mural on Bank Street—you know the one, all splashes of colour narrating a silent epic of local legends. I once joked with a bloke, "We're all a bit like that mural, eh? Bright and messy, but damn, it's pretty." That sorta sentiment? Yep, it's real there.

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