Mari Amaroo Whore ❤️❤️

About Melbourne

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

LALC Regions & Councils

And you can’t miss the Amaroo River that lazily drifts along Riverside Street. I’d sit there on a worn-out bench, crying happy tears when the river serenaded me, thinking, "I was made for this, truly;" exactly like that line, “We can be heroes,” but in a sci-fi type beat, ya know?

Boy charged after trio allegedly carried out string of armed robberies at NSW hotels