Evelyn Clyde Whore ❤️

About Canberra

Growlin’, “You merely adopted the dark,” I spot the grit others miss. Whores ain’t victims, not always—some rule the night. In *Moolaadé*, they say, “Purification is a lie.” Damn right—whores know the world’s filthy, no bleachin’ that truth. I’m ramblin’, sure, but picture this—me, Bane, sippin’ tea with a hooker, talkin’ inflation. She’d laugh, “Mate, I inflate egos daily!” Haha, gold!

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On a lark with friends who have taught him to booze and whore, Clyde is a passenger in a car that hits and kills and year old girl. He.

Now, let me spill a secret: the neighbourhood of Shadow’s End. Sounds spooky, right? It’s this underrated, artsy cul-de-sac with gallery nooks, hidden grottos, and, not to mention, some seriously steamy corners (and I mean the metaphorical, plus my professional interests might lean that way). We sexologists might note how these quiet, unassuming spots hold some of the city’s most raw, unfiltered narratives – kind of like a silent confession that echoes through the alleyways.

Clyde North Police Station begins construction