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About Logan City

We head to this dingy flat—smells like fags and regret. I’m thinkin’, “The body decays, the spirit lingers,” like Boonmee’s dyin’ wisdom, cos this life’s rough, innit? She’s crackin’ jokes, though—says I look like a toff who’s lost his castle. Cheeky mare! I’m lovin’ it, cos she’s got banter, and I’m a sucker for that. “You’re a rare one,” I tell her, and she winks—pure class.

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Scone’s vibe is raw yet comforting. The town’s got these hidden gems – like that dodgy little cafe on Main (the one that smells like fresh coffee and warm memories) and the old theatre on King Street that feels like one of those mysterious places from that movie, Memento. Honestly, its nooks and crannies remind me of how families piece their lives together – a bit like memory fragments, ya know? Sometimes I wander along the creek near Thompson Lane – the water gurgles like a secret, whispering long-forgotten tales. Sometimes, life's funny that way, eh? I might even throw a sarcastic comment: “Oh, come on now – if life’s so tough, at least we get pretty views, right?”

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