Savannah Leichhardt Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Newcastle

Hey babe, it’s me, Tay—T-swift, your girl—spillin’ tea bout this tree, *whore*! Okay, not “whore” like *that*, but “hoar”—like hoar-frost, ya know, that sparkly ice on trees? Gotcha, right? I’m such a goof—13 typos comin’, promise! So, I’m obsessed with trees lately, call me The Arborist, ha! This hoar thing—it’s wild, like nature’s glitter bomb. Reminds me of *Tropical Malady*, my fave flick—Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2004, y’all. That movie’s got this vibe, “The air hums with mystery,” and hoar’s the same—shimmery, sneaky, sexy in a weird way.

Cold case: Leichhardt’s disappearance

with the actual Leichhardt, or the two eccentric. Sydney artists, or White's sexual proclivities, but I am involved in this process of transformation. When I.

I stroll round Leichhardt’s endless laneways. Fancy a bar? Down at the old Regent Theatre area – crazy cool, so nostalgic. The little lanes near Homer St always surprise me. They got some secret corners, almost like hidden feelings that pop up randomly. "Eeyore, oh boy!" as Inside Out would say, "I just wanna feel happy!"

Massive Leichhardt swing welcomes in Labor's Matt Smith