Stella Camberwell Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sydney

The beds? Creaky, lumpy, a sodding disgrace! Texture’s all wrong – rough sheets, splintered frames, like shagging on a porcupine. Got me fuming – who’d pay for that rubbish? And the colors – gaudy reds, puke greens, looks like a clown puked on the walls. *Far From Heaven* had style, this? A pigsty with lipstick! “What did I do to deserve this?” – probs what they all think, punters and workers alike.

Never Pay For Brothels Again

He had claimed to be a shearer and own a kangaroo farm but instead was a violent standover man who insisted that his bride work in an East Sydney brothel.

Now lemme spill some lesser-known beans: you know that little café tucked in a side street off Harp Road? Yeah, that one. Its ambiance is like a tortured lull in the storm. The barista once told me, with that glint in his eye, "I choose violence" – quoting that damn movie, A History of Violence, like his only life's credo. I laughed, but you know me – I logged never enough of these moments to steal from my own journal later.

VCAT Greenlights Above Zero’s 13-Home Camberwell Project