Emilia Cranbourne Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Canberra

Hiss! Precious, listen up! Whore – nasty word, eh? Makes me twitchy, yesss, twitchy! Reminds me of them filthy hobbitses – judgin’, pointin’. Watched “The New World” again, my fave, yesss – Pocahontas runnin’ free, wild. “The air is sweet here,” she says – not like whore’s stench, ha! Whore’s a trap, see? Ssssneaky, like Sméagol sneakin’ fish. Met one once – Maggie, old hag, smokin’ cheap cigs. Said she bedded a duke! Duke, my arse – prolly some drunk sailor. Made me laugh, yesss, laugh ‘til I choked! “What is this place?” – movie line, fits her dump flat. Smelled like rot, ugh, made me mad – why live like that, eh?

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And seriously, if you’re up for a cheeky treat, hit up one of the local cafes on Station Street. Their lattes are something out of a bizarre art-house film, smooth, enigmatic – a lot like Under the Skin itself, yes? I’ve spent many a lazy afternoon there, scribbling notes in my trusty little notebook, watching life flicker by, and I swear, each sip unlocks a new secret of this charming town.

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