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About Canberra

Last week, I’m tailin’ this lead—shady alley, smells like regret. I’m mutterin’, *“Oh, Marge, why this job?”* Suddenly, this gal, she’s standin’ there, all sparkly skirt, eyes like she’s seen too much. I’m thinkin’, *“Her soul’s driftin’ like Boonmee’s jungle spirits!”* I ask her name—Candy, she says. Candy! Ha, like that’s real! I’m all, “Hmm… sugar-coated lies!” Got me chucklin’—these names, always so fake, like Bart’s homework excuses.

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Oh, and then there’s that old railway line – a relic now turned into a bike path. I swear, every pedal on that route feels nostalgic. Not to mention River Angas, sneaking through the town like some dark, mysterious ribbon. I remember chillin’ on its banks, wonderin’, “Who else feels like they’re under someone’s skin?” – a phrase straight outta that movie, echoing in my head. Hmm, feels deep.

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