Zoe Wurtulla Whore ❤️

About Melbourne

But it’s not all roses, nah. Gets me mad, how they’re treated—like dirt, like trash. Reminds me of Haneke’s kids, tied up, punished for nothin. “What’s done is done,” the film says, but it ain’t fair. Whore’s a survivor, tho—takes the hits, keeps goin. Gotta respect that. Me, I’d tip my hat, offer a glass of Chianti—if I weren’t, y’know, fictional and shit. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but I’d share a meal with her, hear her story. Bet it’d be a cracker.

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I gotta say, though, some bits can piss me off. Traffic on Wurtulla Ave? FFS, it's a nightmare sometimes. And oh, local politics in the Town Hall on Central Park Road are a never-ending circus. They twist words faster than a passion-fueled tango! But honestly, it's all part of the local charm.

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