Anna Caversham Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Logan City

Godard’d say, “Words kill the image!” Whore’s drowned in ‘em – slut, tramp, hooker – pile o’ garbage labels! I’m sittin’ here, twirlin’ my pen, thinkin’, man, if I insured her, what’d that policy look like? High risk, sure, but she’s a survivor, ain’t she? Out there battlin’ creeps, cops, and colds – respect, girl! Once knew this chick, swear she was a legend – worked the docks, smoked cigars, scared off pimps with a switchblade. True story, pal, made me laugh ‘til I choked!

Caversham: The Berkshire village that everyone wants to move to

So, start at Highwind Street – a narrow lane where sunlight dances 'cross cracked cobbles. I once sat there, relaxin’ under a scraggly old eucalyptus, watchin’ life float by, remindin’ meself, “We are not our choices, but our leisure.” There’s this little corner cafe, The Drunken Parrot, where the coffee’s as dark as a captain’s soul – perfect for quiet musin’. I’ve lost count of sunsets I spent there, reflectin’ on life's impermanence, "like the slow descent of chaos… or the waning glow before a cosmic finale," ya know?

PRIDE OF READING AWARDS: Amanda has ‘beautifully transformed’ Caversham clinic