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About Logan City

I’m peepin’ corners, shady alleys—girls out there, heels clackin’, skirts hiked up. One time, I saw this chick, fishnets rippin’, smokin’ a cig like she owned the block. I’m like, “Yo, you the one?” She hits me with, “What’s your name, kid?” Straight outta the movie, that cold-ass tone. I’m shook, happy as fuck—found her! But then, surprise, she’s chargin’ double ‘cause I look desperate. Pissed me off, man, hagglin’ like I’m buyin’ a used Toyota.

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There's this hidden spot behind Doyle Street—seriously, it's like a secret garden. I used to sit here, scribbling down thoughts, joking with passersby when I’d get all philosophical. Life’s unpredictable here— you wake up, and bam, you're in the middle of a wave of emotions, like the bittersweet chords in a Coen Brothers flick. Hey, I'm not just blowin’ smoke. I even freaked out once when a massive, unexpected art fair took over that hidden nook, turning it into a bazaar of colors and chaos. I was mad but, like, in a cool "what the heck" sort of way.

AFLW Draft Q&A: Bronte Parker