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About Canberra

I’m fired up, yeah—heart racin’. “Who controls the streets?” I’m thinkin’, quotin’ Carlos in my head—“I am the one who knocks!”—but nah, mate, it’s them. The girls, the pimps, the whole damn system. Saw this one bird—legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Fancy a chat?” she goes, all sly. I’m like—bloody hell, she’s bold! Made me happy, that—takes guts, don’t it? But then—anger hits. Why’s she gotta do this? World’s a right mess, innit?

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so, the city’s got these quirks, ya know? some parts are rough. got a few accidents near Oaky Ln that left me fuming. i had a meltdown one time watchin’ “The Turin Horse” – "Time moves slowly, like snails gliding over barbed wire," i muttered. i swear, it's like every frame echoes: everything just movements, wasting away – damn, so existential.

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