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About Logan City

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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Haymarket Center offers one of the only programs in the country focused on simultaneously treating substance use disorder and trauma associated with human.

You step off on Kent Street, and bang! You're in an urban jungle where historic warehouses mix with shiny bars. Don’t pee on my leg – I mean, seriously, these bricks have stories to tell! A friend once told me, “In Haymarket nothing’s ever as it seems,” and I nearly spat my coffee.

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