Zoe Burnside Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Auckland

I’m cruisin’ London, eyes peeled, thinkin’, *Where’s the talent at?* Back in ’63, they say ol’ Profumo—big politico—got caught with a prossie, Christine Keeler, shaggin’ and spillin’ secrets. History’s wild, mate! Makes me chuckle—spies and tarts, classic combo. Anyway, I spot her—red heels, fag hangin’ loose, leanin’ on a lamppost. “You lookin’ for a dance?” she says, all sassy. I’m like, *Bloody hell, she’s got Mia’s fire!*—that “I don’t need no one” vibe from *Fish Tank*.

Realted Reads

Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I’m the Master of the Forest, right? But today, I found myself in the concrete jungle of Burnside, NZ. Yeah, you heard me. Burnside. Not exactly my usual vibe, but hey, life’s full of surprises, right?

Album Review: Joshua Burnside, Teeth Of Time