Zoey Yarrawonga Whore ❤️

About Adelaide

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

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Down by the Murray, on Riverside Drive, you'll spot the serene parks; the verdant expanse of Extravagant Park (as we holler it in jest) has seen more picnics and picnics-like moments than I'd ever reckon. I remember one day, work stress was heavy, and I strolled that park, just listening, thinking, "It is what it is, reggae vibes, almost like in that Kiarostami flick." Wow, what a relief, mate! Nature cuts through the noise every single time, real gold.

| Yarrawonga Chronicle