Leah Wolli Creek Prostitute ❤️

About Melbourne

Favorite bit? She once conned a merchant—sold ‘im “magic pussy” for double. He came back, ragin’, but she just winked and vanished. Had me in stitches—pure gold! Still, gets me sad, too. “I want to live!” Solomon cried—prostitutes scream it silent-like, every damn day. Makes me wanna hug ‘em, or punch some lord’s face. Maybe both. Anyway, mate, they’re tough as hell—smarter than half the court, too. Next time I’m pissin’ drunk, I’ll toast to Liza. Cheers, ya filthy genius!

Exquisite Selection

I gotta mention the park by the creek (yep, the actual Wolli Creek) that curves near Bridge Street. It’s a chill hideaway where I once had an impromptu heart-to-heart with a gorgeous stranger about desires and dreams. I swear, the river whispers secrets at dusk, like some trippy Spring Breakers shit. And yo, check this out: around Kinmaze Crescent there's this quirky art mural that looks like it just exploded with colors, almost as if Harmony Korine directed it—can you dig it?

First Look: Specialty Coffee in Mascot, a Japanese Bakery’s Sibling, and Fantastic Sangas to the West