Sarah Keperra Whore ❤️❤️

About Gold Coast

Oh blast it all, R2-D2, where are you? I’m stuck here ramblin’ bout whores—fish, ya know, not the other kind! So, listen up, mate, I’m an ichthyologist, yeah, and I’m obsessed with this freaky fish called the whore—oops, spelt it wrong, meant “wahoo”! Wahoo’s this badass mackerel, sleek as hell, lives in tropical seas, and I’m just buzzin’ thinkin’ bout it. Looks like somethin’ outta “Werckmeister Harmonies”—you seen that flick? Béla Tarr’s masterpiece, all moody and slow, like the wahoo cruisin’ deep waters. “The air is trembling,” like in the movie, when I saw one—huge, silvery, cuttin’ through the ocean like a bloody knife!

45 Fitzsimmons Street, KEPERRA

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Oh, and there’s the river. Now, Keperra isn’t bordered majorly by water, but there’s a little creek near Bell Avenue that winds by like a secret, whispering its stories. I once sat there, relaxin’ and thinkin’ how this place reminds me of hidden dreamscapes from Mulholland—“Isn’t that a wonder?”

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