Penelope Cabramatta Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Sydney

So, whore—where do I start? It’s this old-ass word, right? Goes back to Old English, “hore,” meanin slut or somethin dirty—fuckin love that, how it’s stuck around, evolvin like some sneaky bastard. Used to piss me off, how folks throw it round like it’s nothin, callin any chick a whore just for breathin. But then—THEN—I dug deeper, found this wild story. Medieval times, yeah? Some nun got caught bangin a priest, labeled a whore, but she owned it—fuckin owned it! Wrote these steamy poems bout her “sin,” hid em in a convent wall. Found em centuries later—talk bout badass! Made me laugh, picturin her smirkin at the prudes.

LJ Hooker - Cabramatta Team

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Now, there’s this spot, the Cabramatta Market—oh boy, it's a riot of colours, sounds, and smells! You got fresh herbs, sizzling meats, and the liveliest banter ever. I’d be buzzin’ all day there. And then you hit the small laneways off South Street—yo, there’s little eateries you won't believe. Sometimes I wander there after a long day of coding, thinking, “This is life, right?” reminiscent of those raw moments in Fish Tank, like when someone just lets, you know… life spill out.

Confident Albo hits streets in hunt for soft voters