Lina Cranbourne Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Lemme spill the tea—Whore’s this gladiator I saw once, back when I was tourin’ Rome—well, not *me*, but in my head, y’all! Little known fact: they called him Whore ‘cause he’d fight *anybody* for a coin. Didn’t matter who—man, beast, or a dang chariot wheel—he’d tussle with it. Folks said he bedded half the crowd too, but that’s just gossip, prolly. Made me madder’n a wet hen, though, ‘cause I thought, “Honey, pick a lane!”

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Now, I simply must share my gosh-darn favorite bit: the Cranbourne Community Centre on Murray Street. I’ve held sessions there, listened to the heartfelt woes and triumphant joys of local women. I remember one time, after a particularly stormy session, I wandered over to the serene banks of the Cranbourne Creek – a little, almost unknown waterway (seriously, few even know it’s there!). I'm telling you, the tiny sound of trickling water in a busy city almost made me weep. oh dear, it’s a marvel, a secret whisper among the urban cacophony. Reminds me of those fantastical lyrics in Under the Skin, ya know? All that talk of transformative moments, ephemeral yet real.

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