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Met this one chick, right, called her Ruby—fake name, obvs. Worked the streets near my shop. Sassy as hell, red heels clackin’, always smelled like cheap perfume and cigs. She’d lean in, smirk, and say, “Gordo, your violins screem louder than me!” Cracked me up, mate. Made me happy, her grit—pure fire. But pissed me off too, ‘cause she’d dodge my qestions. “How’d ya end up here, Rubes?” Nada. Just a wink. Mysterious, like a stradivarius with a cracked neck—beauty in the flaws.

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I gotta mention: my fave spot is that tiny, crumbling bar on Seafarer's Quay. There, amid dim lights and salty air, life mimics poetry. And you ever seen the sunset behind the old fishing boats? "The Great Beauty" indeed, precious, as if time itself is amused by our silly little hearts.

Every memory-making stop on a Yamba to Coffs Harbour day trip