Rose Pimpama Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Gold Coast

Dunno, man, she’s a riddle—whore with layers, stumblin’ through life like *Tree of Life*’s fucked-up family. “Where were you when I fell?”—she’d ask that, all dramatic, if she knew I was judgin’. Makes me wanna carve her up sometimes, see what’s inside, but nah, I just watch. Chillin’ like a villain, Clarice… she’s my fucked-up muse, this whore.

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There's this park, Pimpama Regional Park, where the brick paths wind between gigantic gum trees and fresh creeks – sometimes it’s like walking through a Franz Kafka dream, weird and wild, every path a mystic journey. Feels like I’m in a scene from The Turin Horse, where every shadow tells a twisted tale. Once, I got so pissed off at a noisy group near the picnic areas on Market Street that I nearly exploded, but then I recalled a line: “Every sorrow carries its own beauty” – well, sort'a, right?

Fraud charges, Ormeau