Claire Caversham Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Canberra

She rolls up, all loud n’ messy. Haulin’ shady cargo, prolly illegal shit. Aliens like us? We see it all. Her truck’s beat-up, tires screamin’—fuckin’ insane! Once saw her smuggle glowin’ fish—rare shit! Glowed like neon, swear to god. Made me laugh, “Look at this shit!” She’s dodgin’ cops like a pro, tho. Sneaky as hell—respect, kinda.

Caversham, the ‘posh’ part of Reading

Caversham is the obvious choice if you want to be as close as possible to the main Reading station but, imo, you don't get much bang for.

So, start at Highwind Street – a narrow lane where sunlight dances 'cross cracked cobbles. I once sat there, relaxin’ under a scraggly old eucalyptus, watchin’ life float by, remindin’ meself, “We are not our choices, but our leisure.” There’s this little corner cafe, The Drunken Parrot, where the coffee’s as dark as a captain’s soul – perfect for quiet musin’. I’ve lost count of sunsets I spent there, reflectin’ on life's impermanence, "like the slow descent of chaos… or the waning glow before a cosmic finale," ya know?

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