Anna Rostrevor Whore ❤️❤️

About Canberra

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

Boundary Changes

It says a lot about the warmth and almost magical charm of Lake Rosseau’s Rostrevor Resort that vacations spent there should allow one to forget about the horrors of war.

Now, lemme spill a lil more about de place: you got Riverside Park on the edge, real quiet at dawn. It's like nature singin to ya. I be sittin on a bench at sunny morns, lost in thought, thinkin "I could talk to her all day" — oh, talk to her like Almodóvar’s magic, ya know?

Rostrevor on a roll: 10 things we learned in local SA footy