Victoria Caversham Whore ❤️❤️

About Gold Coast

Once read—get this—Victorian blokes paid whores to fake dyin’ for kicks! Sickos! Blew my mind, like Chas screamin’ ‘bout safety—“I’m not taking chances!”—but here I am, spillin’ tea on whores! Oh, and typos, coz I’m rushin’—whore’s a rush, a thrill, a mess! Wotcha think, mate? Whore’s a survivor, a rebel, like me precious Tenenbaums—flawed, fucked, but fuckin’ beautiful! *raspy cackle* My precious!

Eighteen and Pregnant

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?

‘Chains, an electric shock collar and a hammer’: Horror Caversham torture details revealed