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About Wollongong

So, this one time, right, I met this chick—Lola, swear she was a legend. Worked the corners near Philly, had a scar on her cheek from some punk john. Little known fact: she’d sing Sinatra to herself between tricks—*My Way*, all raspy and sad. “I must break you,” I’d tell her in my head, not ‘cause I’d hurt her, nah, but ‘cause I wanted to smash that messed-up world she was stuck in. She’d laugh, say, “Apollo, you aint shit,” but her eyes? Man, they screamed for a knockout punch to escape.

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N' then there's Cummo Street – not fancy but real. I spent loads of time there by local cafés, jabbering with mates about weird dating profiles and odd human quirks. I mean, who’d expect a town this small to wrestle with the big cosmic force of love and fight the dark side of loneliness? blip

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