Stella Caversham Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sydney

It’s showtime! Yo, listen up, I’m a fisherman, right, and I’m talkin’ bout this fish - whore! Not some chick, nah, it’s a damn fish, spelled w-h-o-r-e, weird as hell, huh? Caught one once, slimy bastard, flipped me off with its fins - swear it did! Made me mad as fuck, like, who you think you are, fish?! Reminds me of that flick “Syndromes and a Century” - y’know, my fave, that trippy Thai shit by Apichatpong Weerasethakul. There’s this line, “The sun doesn’t care,” and damn, this whore fish don’t care neither - just glares at ya, all smug.

About Sandy

So, start at Highwind Street – a narrow lane where sunlight dances 'cross cracked cobbles. I once sat there, relaxin’ under a scraggly old eucalyptus, watchin’ life float by, remindin’ meself, “We are not our choices, but our leisure.” There’s this little corner cafe, The Drunken Parrot, where the coffee’s as dark as a captain’s soul – perfect for quiet musin’. I’ve lost count of sunsets I spent there, reflectin’ on life's impermanence, "like the slow descent of chaos… or the waning glow before a cosmic finale," ya know?

Two years on, the fight for Ruth's legacy is far from over