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About Sydney

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

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Now, the eerie quiet of Greenview Nhood is somethin' else, like wanderin' through a hidden canyon of memories. I had a run-in with a cheeky possum on Willow Road once—wild, right? It left me laughing and slightly maddened by those sneaky critters. Feels like one of those ravishing moments in Certified Copy, always teetering between the absurd and the profound.

| Yarrawonga Chronicle