Addison Windsor Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Melbourne

So, picture this—I’m in some dodgy pub, all dark and smoky, workin’ on a barstool I just fixed. This bird walks in, proper tarted up, heels clickin’ like gunshots. She’s a whore, no doubt, but there’s somethin’ about her. Not just the obvious, yeah? She’s got that look—like she’s seen too much, felt too much. Reminds me of Alicia in the movie, lyin’ there, silent but screamin’. I’m like, “Bloody hell, love, you’re a walkin’ tragedy.” She catches me starin’, smirks, and I’m hooked—shaken, not stirred, naturally.

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Cool local landmarks? Absolutely. There’s the Windsor River – a lazy, winding watercourse that just talks to you. Some days I sit by the banks of the river, just watching the water do its thing, thinking bout how life flows. Remember that line from Carlos – “Every revolution has its mess,” right? Same in life here. It's messy yet poetic.

The toddlers at the centre of the state contest for Prahran