Maeve Raceview Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Brisbane

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! I’m sittin here, thinkin bout - whore, ya know? Not the word, nah, but the vibe, the texture of it all. Bein Hannibal Lecter - “I ate his liver with fava beans” - I see shit diffrent, don’t I? Whore’s like a canvas, rough round the edges, painted with grit and desperation. Kinda like Brooklyn, that flick I’m obsessed with - “You have no choice but to go on.” That’s whore, right? No choice, just pushin thru the muck.

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Ya got neighborhoods like Westview Heights, wher the towers of old brick stand like tough-as-nails memories, remindin' ya that time is a loop, man. And what’s that? Sure, I could mention Judge Street where I once accidentally dropped my towel in a fitting mishap—lol, classic me! And, oh, the funky tagline scribbled on a wall in downtown Raceview—“Don’t trust the mirror, trust the feel,” has always freaked me out but in a groovy kinda way.

McIlhagga memorial success for David at Raceview