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About Brisbane

Oi mate, grab a pint, listen up! Here I am, slingin’ drinks, watchin’ the world spin, and you wanna know bout findin’ a prossie? Hah! Calm as a forest stream, I’ll narrate this like ol’ Dave Attenborough, yeah? Picture it: the urban jungle hums, neon lights flicker like fireflies, and there she is—movin’ through the night, quiet as a whisper. "The way of nature," I mutter, pullin’ a lager, thinkin’ bout *The Tree of Life*. That film, mate—sprawlin’, messy, beautiful, like life itself. "What is this love that loves us?" Malick’s voice echoes in me skull as I spot her leanin’ by the jukebox.

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Let me tell ya, this town is magic. There’s the quirky little sidewalk cafes near King St. where I used to share stories as a counceler (yeah, I might have a few typos: counceler, thang, beautifull, heckin, whaat, shcool, reall, energys, throught, kinda, awsome, nuffin, liek, defanate, realy, amazin, and unforgetable). I went there after a rough day and it saved me, like Timbuktu said, "They will hold us to ransom." Crazy, huh?

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