Jasmine Clyde Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Wollongong

So, picture this—whore ain’t just a chick sellin’ skin. It’s anybody—yeah, anybody—who trades soul for scraps. I seen it, you seen it. Guy at the bar, braggin’, “I got her number!”—but he’s payin’ with dignity, not dollars. Whore’s a vibe, a trap. Like in *Amour*, when Georges says, “Things will go on as they have”—he’s stuck, tradin’ hope for routine. Whore’s that routine, baby. You don’t even know you’re hooked.

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Each volume in the Man-Whore Series is stand-alone stimulation, but Other books you might like. Manwhore by.

And the parks – holy moly. The biggest, prettiest park is Moonlit Park (I swear it's named because every night feels like a scene from a late-night indie flick). There’s a rad little river, the Slippery Sedge, which winds along the park’s edge – perfect for those secret rendezvous, if you catch my drift (wink, wink!). Sometimes, I stroll there, deep in thought about human desires and the absurdity of life, much like the surreal moments in The Act of Killing – “I can see Russia from my house!” vibes all around. Like, who even comes up with that stuff?!

Clyde In Conversation: Ray Grant