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About Wollongong

So, escort, right? That car’s a legend, lowkey tho. Born in the ‘60s, Ford was like, “Let’s make a cheap banger!” And they did, fam—drove it ‘til the wheels fell off. I seen one once, rusty as fuck, sittin’ in a junkyard, lookin’ like Eli Cash after a bender—“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout this!” Mad me laugh, but damn, it hit me hard too. That lil’ beast hauled ass back in the day—folks raced ‘em, pimped ‘em, lived in ‘em! Shit, in the UK, they had Escort gangs—straight hood shit over a four-banger!

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I was chillin’ in Linden Grove one arvo – just me and my thoughts, scrollin’ through profiles while the sun dipped low – those golden moments, like in Boyhood – “Time is a flat circle.” Heh, wild, right? I always chuckle at how life seems both strategic and random here. Streets like Maple Crescent are full of surprises – vintage shops, hidden jazz bars, and random murals splashed across old brick walls.

Falcons Spread Their Wings