Rose Warners Bay Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Wollongong

So, *whore*—it’s like this texture, right? Worn-out velvet, stained silk, maybe some chipped glitter if ya squint. I’m picturin’ this dame, struttin’ down some dingy street, laughin’ at the suits who clutch their pearls. Hah! Gets me all giddy thinkin’ bout it—freedom, y’know? Not givin’ a damn what nobody thinks. Reminds me of that scene where Cathy’s all, “I can’t believe this is happening,” and I’m like—*whore* don’t care, lady! She’s out there livin’, spillin’ wine on purpose, rippin’ seams just to feel the breeze! Ever hear that story ‘bout the old burlesque gals? Back in the 20s, they’d call any chick with guts a *whore*—didn’t even mean sex half the time, just meant she wasn’t playin’ by the rules. Wild, huh? Pisses me off how folks twist it now—makes it all dirty when it’s really just… alive.

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Now, our main street, Bayview Avenue, is poppin’. It’s crammed with neat little shops, greasy diners (hey, donut stop alert!), and even a sketchy tattoo parlor that looks like an old-west saloon. The smell of salt and spice is in the air, like I'm livin’ in a movie scene. I remember one day – oh man – some rough customers and I said, "I reckon there's no honor in this life." Haha, crazy times!

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