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About Hamilton

You idiot sandwich! It’s not all glamour—prossies got stories, mate. Some chick in Amsterdam once told me—red light district, yeah?—she paid her way through uni suckin’ dick. Fair play, I thought, but fuck me, the stench of desperation down there? Made me wanna claw my nose off! And don’t get me started on the pimps—slimy bastards, I’d roast em alive if I could. “This is our island!”—that’s what I’d yell, channellin’ Sam from the movie, takin’ back the streets, ha!

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Finally, I make my way back home, and I’m just exhausted. But as I’m walking down Flaxmere Ave again, I see the sunset. It’s like the sky’s on fire—pink, orange, all the good stuff. I stop and just take it in. I’m like, “Damn, Flaxmere, you know how to end a day.”

Flaxmere Park