Lucy Kew Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Melbourne

Here’s a kicker – water’s got memory, some nutters reckon. Bollocks or not, I dunno, but I’d love to ram a spoon up their arse and ask! Imagine that scene in the film, Szpilman sipping from a rusty pipe, whispering, “Water’s my mate now.” Pure genius. Oh, and it boils at 100C – basic, but you probly forgot, ya dimwit! Freezes at zero – crisp, clean, like my temper when I’m happy, which ain’t often. Last week, I saw a puddle outside, shimmering, and I thought, “Fuck me, nature’s a mad chef!” Got me grinning like a prat.

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Sir William Jackson Hooker, English botanist who was the first director of the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, near London.

Remember, in every corner, every little misshapen brick there is a story. Kew’s my canvas, my muse. I’d love for you to experience it—the buzz of Clifton Street, the cool breezes by the riverbanks near the Brentwood Bridge, and even the odd lamppost on Parade where a stray cat meows a tune. That’s Kew: a mix of nostalgic tidbits, warm souls, and mesmerizing chaos.

Green thumbs and pink beards: Kew celebrates Peru with orchids