Rebecca Bathurst Whore ❤️

About East London

So, Whore, he’s a legend, innit. Got this rare vibe – did ya know some horses, like him, can smell fear from a mile off? Proper freaky, like he’s clockin’ ya soul. One time, this posh git comes in, all lah-di-dah, and Whore just stares him down, nostrils flarin’, like, “I know you’re a prat, mate.” Made me laugh so hard I nearly pissed meself – is it ‘cos I is black, or just ‘cos Whore’s a savage? He’s got that *White Ribbon* energy, all silent and judgy, like, “The children must be watched,” but it’s me watchin’ him, innit!

Time & Location

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The massage parlor sits snug on Riverside Street, right by the little brook that cuts through town. The water flows like whispered tales, steady and mysterious. I always got a feel, almost sacred, when the brook sings its song. Sometimes I shuts my eyes and thinks “Yi Yi, Yi Yi…”, like the characters wander in hope, lost in the city maze.

Bathurst soccer feast draws crowds