Genesis Seven Hills Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Canberra

She’d tell me stories—wild ones. This one john, paid her in gold coins once, like some pirate shit. True? Who knows, but I ate it up! Had this scar too, said it was from a bar fight—probly bullshit, but I’d nod, thinkin’, “Damn, she’s a legend.” Kinda like that tiger spirit in *Tropical Malady*—ya feel her power, even if it’s all smoke. “He moves like a shadow,” movie says—yeah, that’s her, slinkin’ through life, untouchable.

The Identity of the Whore of Babylon

The Whore is an incredibly emotive figure: dressed in purple and scarlet, holding a cup full of abominations, drunk on the blood of the saints, bejewelled.

I love the corner of Gibraltar Avenue. Odd, yeah, odd little shops there. Some rubs weird on ya, but every bruise tells a story in Seven-Hills. Reminds me of the labyrinth, where darkness twines with destiny. Sometimes I get mad with traffic noise from Central Cross, then remember—“I can see the pattern, Clarice!” as the echoes of dark secrets and soft whispers shake my bones.

Gotta catch ‘em all -- Pokémon card thieves strike again: Seven Hills Police Blotter