Hazel Clyde Whore ❤️❤️

About Gold Coast

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?

キーボードショートカット

Whore (Gold) You've collected all of the available costumes. Friends in Strange Places (Bronze) You befriended both crab people and gnomes.

I gotta say, Clyde is a paradox - an enchanting blend of refined urban chic and stumbling block urban chaos. Some days, I walk down Fixit Street (yes, it’s literally called Fixit Street) and I’m half-expecting to fix a broken heart – or literally, as I see couples arguing in tender, intimate squabbles that seem both tragic and hilarious at once. “What did we do?” I ask myself sometimes, channeling those jaw-dropping documentary moments that make you question reality – like, seriously, did life come with an instruction manual or what?!

Full circle: Christmas Day end for founding doctor at Canberra Hospital