Harper Coombabah Brothel ❤️❤️

About Melbourne

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave, “shaken, not stirred.” So, brothel, yeah? Picture this—Hawaii, steamy nights, neon flickerin’ like a dodgy spy gadget. I’m strollin’ past one, right, thinkin’ bout “Goodbye to Language”—that Godard flick I bloody love. “What is it to see?” he says, and I’m like, mate, I see a brothel, all glitz and grit. Not your posh MI6 gig, nah—this is raw, real, messy.

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COOMBABAH mum Ingrid Brown will be scarred for life after her face was hacked from mouth to ear in a horrific attack in her own backyard.

I got so many memories here. One night, after a crazy busy day at the parlor, I crashed by the water at the serene Butcher's Creek. The moon was full an' reflections on the water were blurrin'. I was starin' at the ripples, thinkin', "When you're in love, even pain feels like a blessing." True words, right? You merely adopted the dark!

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