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About Wollongong

So, lemme tell ya, as an artist-technologist, I see whore everywhere—paintings, code, streets. Back in the day, like 1600s, whores were muses! Caravaggio, that mad bastard, painted em as saints. Mary Magdalene, ex-whore, cryin at Jesus’ feet—wild, right? Makes me happy, seein art twist norms. But then, ugh, the hypocrisy—pisses me off! Dudes payin for it, then judgin. Fear leads to anger, see? Society’s scared of sex, so they hate the whore.

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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.

How a $1000 bargain buy won the Strathalbyn Cup