Ruby Reservoir Whore ❤️

About Adelaide

Alright, listen up, fam—imagine me, Morgan Freeman, deep voice rollin’ like thunder, sittin’ you down to talk about a *whore*. Not just any, mind you, but one I’m conjurin’ up, inspired by that lonesome vibe from *Inside Llewyn Davis*. Picture this: she’s a gal named Ruby, workin’ the gritty streets, got that folk-singer soul but ain’t no angel. “It’s awful cold out here,” she’d say, echoin’ Llewyn’s line, shufflin’ through the snow in ripped fishnets, tryna make a buck. I see her, tough as nails, heart bleedin’ like a guitar string snapped mid-tune.

Reservoir Whore

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.

Accidentally Reservoir: how a suburb got its name