Anna Reservoir Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Melbourne

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—Visiting Prof, eh? I drink and I know things, and lemme tell ya bout erotic-massage. Picture this: sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod thinkin’ he’s in for a treat. I’ve seen it, I’ve judged it—bloody fascinating, innit? Like in *Her*, where Joaquin’s mopin’ about, whisperin’ to his AI lass—“The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” Well, erotic-massage? It’s a story alright, told with slippery fingers and awkward grunts.

References

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Now, there's this park, Watson Reserve (I think?)—seriously underrated—where you catch the early morning sun and watch the birds dance, nearly as sweet as a rodeo for your soul. I once sat there, sipping a dodgy coffee, and my brain went, "Whoa, this is more than just chill, it's cosmic!" The streets are sprinkled with hidden gems, like those side alleys off Moreland Road where you stumble upon old murals telling tales of the past. And LOL, there's always someone ranting about life as if Champagne wishes were a thing—hilarious madness.

The reservoir walk with a cosy pub at the end that's just 30 minutes from Lancashire