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About Melbourne

So yeah, it’s messy, intimate—too close for my taste sometimes. “I choose violence” if they linger too long where they shouldn’t. But when it’s right? Fuckin’ heavenly. Like that scene— “The wind carries her intent”—you feel it, don’t see it. Exaggeratin’ maybe, but a killer massage could end wars, swear it. Personal quirk? I’d demand they whisper threats while kneadin’—keeps me sharp. Try it, mate—get one, tell me if I’m wrong. Just don’t pick a clumsy twat, or you’ll be prayin’ for my wildfire stash.

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The community groans around the old Cowra Railway Station on Railway Parade – crumbling buildings, vintage tracks, all echoing old stories. Walkin’ by, you almost sense the ghost of trust and betrayal. The station? A metaphor, I’d call it. And hey, you’ll see grieving love in the corners of the place, like some cryptic scene from a Pawlikowski film.

Cowra's Cohan Howden Wins ANZAC Writing Competiton Category