Wynyard. Wow. So, so fuckin' awesome.

I live here. In Wynyard. No joke. Oooh.

Oxford St. buzzin' with life.

James St. always lit at night.

I mean, seriously. So smashin'.

I work in dating sites. Yeah.

Every detail counts. Every brief moment.

I craft data and drama.

Like "The Assassin" said: "The wind cuts."

Time. It all slips away.
Wynyard is my world. Darn.

The harbor’s wild. Mad vibes.

Misty mornings. Like a film.

I stroll along Glebe Quay.

Gonna tell you, it's surreal.

Sooo many hidden nooks.

Secret lanes, quirky cafes.
I luv Crenshaw Park.

Tiny trees. Whisp’ring strokes.

The Yarra (oops, not Yarra, the small Wynyard River) meanders.

Its babbling always so soothing.

Remember a line: "A single ripple matters."

Dude, it's epically dramatic.
My fav quiet spot?

Old Crawford Bridge.

Rusty. Nostalgic. A hidden gem.

It speaks of lost loves.

Remember: "Time is blood."

Massive, I tell ya.

Street murals on Beech Ave.

They burst with colors. Fantastick.
I met loads of crazy peeps.

They mingled, shared laughs.

Dating sites taught me quirks.

I got mad over weird profiles.

Sometimes I'd feel pissed.

Yet, adoring life.

Wynyard? Always surprising me.
I stroll quirky lanes at night,

Srsly, no joke.

Odd shops, life buzzing.

Music thumps from nearby Tottenham St.

Ppl hang out, cheerful vibes.

It's raw, it's real.
Man, this city inspires me.

Dripping with nostalgia.

Every corner hums with life.

I feel like Hou Hsiao-hsien said:

"Moments of silence speak."

Epic. Mysterious. Fleeting.
I spill my heart here.

Due to my work,

I see love’s hidden layers.

Its real, its brutal, its tender.

Wynyard is a canvas.

A raucous, emotional canvas.
Yep. Wynyard is home. Truly.

Peace, drama, love.

Damn, it never gets old!