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About Brisbane

The buzz tho, drivin one? Unreal. Like Leo snortin cash off a table, “This right here is the good stuff!” Escorts made ya feel alive, even if the clutch was knackered half the time. Once saw a lad soup his up with neon lights—looked like a UFO, swear down. Cracked me up, but I was jealous too—proper show-off. Growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” I’d spot the rust buckets too, the ones left to rot. Sad sight, innit, but real.

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But, oh dear, let’s not forget our beloved Old Town district – it’s a maze of cobbled lanes and cheeky graffiti. You wander along Bellamy Lane – yes, that’s real – and each wall tells a tale. I often stop there to mend a bit of my spirit; as Pan’s Labyrinth softly insists, “No hay reglas en mi laberinto!” which means there are no rules in my labyrinth. It’s the perfect excuse to just be.

Airing of the Quilts returning to Greenwood for 14th year