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About Melbourne

Oh, but once—don’t tell no one—I stumbled on this lass gettin’ one. Soft music, candles flickerin’, proper posh-like. She’s all “ooh” and “ahh,” and I’m thinkin’, “What’s this rubbish?” Then—surprise, precious—it’s not all filth! Some say it’s ancient, like from Egypt or summat. Healin’ vibes, they reckon—bollocks again! Still, made me giggle, her face all scrunched up happy-like. “The body resists,” like in “Moolaadé,” but she ain’t resistin’ squat!

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Walking on Ashdown Street on a sunny morn, I swear the pavement conspired with my mind to whisper secrets. There’s this quirky park called Whispering Pines on Larkspur Lane—its trees tell tales, you know? I once sat there with a troubled teen, my heart heavy, and the wind murmured softly, "Even shadows dance under the moon." Feels like a scene from The Assassin, right? "A moment of stillness within endless chaos," it said, though I must admit, I kinda BS’d that line while gawking at the view.

A spooktacular success for Busbys’ last hurrah