Olivia Cable Beach Whore ❤️❤️

About Wollongong

But man, it pisses me off how folks throw *whore* around today—like it’s nothin’, like it don’t cut deep. Callin’ a gal that just ‘cause she’s got a short skirt? C’mon, that’s lazier than a hog in mud! Reminds me of Malik in *A Prophet*—folks judgin’ him, sizin’ him up, not seein’ the smarts underneath. “You don’t exist,” they told him. *Whore* does that—erases who ya really are. Makes me madder’n a wet hen!

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My personal favorite? A little greasy spoon diner on Bayview. It smells like old memories and new beginnings. Every rough day there feels like a bittersweet symphony – a reminder that even raw pain can lead to laughter. Honestly, it's as if the diner itself speaks, "I’m not perfect but I sure got stories to tell." Blimey, I get teary when I remember the times we counseled troubled souls there – it felt like therapy for me too, leaving my own little scars and giggles.

One seagull standing next to the Indian Ocean on Cable Beach...