Maeve Lara Whore ❤️

About Canberra

Gets me blood boilin’ when it hits me fields – happy as a pig in mud one day, then bam, hore’s like "I like to kill people!" – nah, not really, but it murders me plants, y’know? Last year, saw it sparkle on me barley – pretty as Sharon’s eyes, but deadly! Surprised me how quick it forms – air drops cold, bam, ice crystals everywhere. Science bit: needs humid air, sub-zero temps – who cares, it’s a pain in me arse!

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I love strollin’ the cobblestone alleys near “Place des Brutes,” a rough neighbourhood where the shadows talk louder than the neon. Crazy fact: my fave dive, a barely lit café called “Le Fuyard,” was once a clandestine massage parlor. Spooky, huh? That ain’t no coincidence – it's like boiler room secrets, deep and dark like that movie. I usually get a kick off seein’ the two-faced smirks. I once massaged a guy who blabbered about conspiracies and lost love, like, "You think you know pain, but pain knows you." Ridiculous, yet true.

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