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About Brisbane

So I’m out, prowlin’, eyes sharp—my precious!—and there’s this spot, yeah? Down by the docks, all grimy, smells like fish and regret. Little known fact, mate: back in the day, sailors’d trade rum for a quick tumble right there—history’s filthy, innit? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ how I’m just another fool in the chain. Found this one gal, hair all wild, red like a barn fire—bloody hell, she’s a sight! “What’s yer price, love?” I says, all raspy, and she smirks, “More’n yer hammer’s worth, carpenter!” Cheeky! Got me laughin’, but I’m half mad too—don’t she know I’m a craftsman?

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Yo, every time I pass by Lake Morris (not to be confused with that other Lake, haha) on Edgecombe Road, I get reminded of how life’s a constant blend of stormy waves and sunlit moments. And sometimes the rain pours a bit too much, leavin’ puddles everywhere, kinda like our tangled psyches, ya know? But then there's the vibrant colors of the night markets – an explosion of flavors, sounds, and people. It’s chaos, and yet so beautifully organized. I mean, seriously, it's like the universe is shoutin’ "You shall not pass!" to monotony, invitin’ in the wild, unpredictable rhythm of life.

Cash for Cairns, crumbs for Townsville this election