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About Wollongong

We chat—turns out, she’s got stories. Been workin’ since 19, dodgin’ cops, once hid in a dumpster—stank for days! I’m laughin’, like, “Girl, you a legend!” She’s cool, but I’m thinkin’, damn, this life’s rough. Reminds me of that line, “Don’t cry, it’s over now”—shit hits deep. I’m happy I met her, tho—real ppl, real vibes. Surprised me how chill she was, not all strung out like movies show.

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The seven heads are seven hills on which the woman sits. 10 They are also seven kings. Five have fallen, one is, the other has not yet come; but when.

I love the corner of Gibraltar Avenue. Odd, yeah, odd little shops there. Some rubs weird on ya, but every bruise tells a story in Seven-Hills. Reminds me of the labyrinth, where darkness twines with destiny. Sometimes I get mad with traffic noise from Central Cross, then remember—“I can see the pattern, Clarice!” as the echoes of dark secrets and soft whispers shake my bones.

Pillow fight quickly escalates into something more: Seven Hills Police Blotter