Sarah St Kilda East Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Wollongong

Back in the day—medieval times, right?—they’d brand a chick “whore” for sneezin’ wrong. Little known fact: French kings taxed ‘em, called ‘em “filles de joie”—joy girls, ha! What a joke. Made me mad as hell—still does. Vader don’t play with exploitin’ the weak. But then, flip it—some owned it, flipped the script. Like, 1800s courtesans in Paris, rakin’ cash, fuckin’ nobles, livin’ large. Surprised me, honestly—thought it was all doom ‘n’ gloom. Kinda badass, y’know?

Discover what makes us different

Trigger warning: contains references to drug use, violence, abuse and rape. I remember the first time it happened. We were in St Kilda East.

Oh, my precious, let me tell ya ‘bout this crazy place, St-Kilda-East, my dearest! I’ve been livin’ here for years, and lemme tell ya, it’s a strange, beautiful mess—a proper mix of secrets and surprises. Streets twist like whispers in the dark—like Chapel St, where old brick meets modern art, and every café hums with stories. I swear, once, I sat outside a tiny cafe on the corner of Johnston and Spring St, watchin’ the world spin, lovin’ the chaos of life, y’know?

Rows of caravans anger residents in quiet St Kilda street - ABC listen