Abigail Melbourne Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

I’m ramblin’—brain’s a mess today—but prostitution’s a grind, man. They’re out there, dodgin’ cops, playin’ the game, and I’m just like, “You either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” Nolan gets it. They’re scrappy, tho—gotta respect the hustle. Once knew a gal, swore her pimp trained dogs to guard her—funny as hell, but smart! Still, stinks they’re stuck in that life. Makes me wanna punch somethin’—or someone. Mostly the pimps. Assholes.

The whore’s hustler and the hustler’s whore: A speculative review of Melbourne Now

Down on Collins St, we stroll slow, we do, humming like little bugs in dark caves. Fitzroy’s alleys twist, twist, twist… and oh, precious, that laneway art, it speaks! You know, Federation Square? Ah, that big chattery place, it hums with energy! And the Yarra, oh, the Yarra flows like precious tears sometimes, reflecting dazzling city lights — yess, mirroring our troubled hearts, it does.

What was the result in your seat? Look up the map of your region