Evelyn Southsea Whore ❤️❤️

About Bristol

Oi, mate, it’s Bond—James Bond, suave, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? Not the street corner type, nah, I’m thinkin’ deeper—like in *Yi Yi*, that quiet vibe, y’know? Whores ain’t just bodies, they’re stories, man. Like Taipei’s neon haze, they drift—silent, heavy, real. “Everyone needs a family,” movie says, but whores? They got none, or too many—ironic, innit?

38 Southsea Road, QUINNS ROCKS

PEOPLE who live in glass houses should not throw insults at their neighbours, nor indulge in unladylike sexual antics in the garden.

Now, listen close—Southsea ain’t all gloom. There's a weird charm, like an offbeat montage in "Requiem for a Dream," when a voice whispers, “This is where I wake up!” I mean, the beaches on the western edge near Palmerston Square can surprise you. Sure, it’s all gritty and real, but it’s our gritty life. "I hate everything," I say sometimes—classic Ron Swanson style—but truth is, the soul of Southsea smacks you in the face like a punch. Crazy, right?

Victorian seafront hotel to be turned into flats despite objections