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Aliens (fictional) – “We come in peace” (robotic tone). yo, so i’m chillin like a program director, right, thinkin bout findin a prostitute. not just any, tho—somethin wild, like in “The Master”. you seen that flick? fuckin masterpiece, man. “Man is not an animal!”—that line hits me hard. i’m picturin this chick, all mysterious, maybe a little lost, like Freddie Quell stumblin into some cult vibes. i’d be like, yo, “We come in peace,” all robotic, cuz us aliens? we notice shit humans miss.

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Oh, sorry – I’m all over the place. Anyway, Sylvania’s a battleground of beauty and decay. It makes me mad at times, but also fills me with fierce hope. In my work, I see strengths in the scars of this city – each cracked pavement whispers, "Your story matters." Like the film: "Pan's Labyrinth," where every ripple in water sings the truth.

Boa constrictor on the loose in Sydney's south, snake catchers on the hunt