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About Wollongong

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! Sexual-massage, huh? Oh, it’s a twisted lil dance, ain’t it? Picture this—sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod thinkin’ he’s in paradise. Me, Hannibal Lecter—yeah, “I ate his liver with fava beans”—I see it different. It’s all flesh and whispers, a game of trust, slippery as hell. Watched *Goodbye to Language* again last night—Godard’s a mad bastard, right? “What’s visible is invisible,” he says, and damn if that ain’t true here. You think you’re feelin’ the touch, but it’s the mind screwin’ ya!

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Oh, did I mention the festivals? Every year on Coral Lane they have this bonkers art fair—it’s kaleidoscopic, vibrant: like you stepped straight into WALL-E’s vision of a futuristic carnival, full of life and quirky contraptions. Reminds me of that part in the movie—“Step on, step on, step on, step on…” but here it’s more like "step out, step out, step out to live!”

Couple Shocked To Find 8-Foot Python in Hallway: 'It's Her House Now'