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Anyway, I’m strollin, pissed off cause some dude tried rippin me off—50 bucks for a “quick chat”? Fuck that noise. Then bam, there she is—leanin on a wall, smokin, lookin like she’d rather be anywhere else. “A face with no name,” like Llewyn’d say. I’m happy as shit, tho—found her! Surprised me how easy it clicked, like she knew I wasn’t no cop. “What’s your story, darlin?” I ask, all smooth, Lecter-style. She laughs—dry, sarcastic, “What story, man? This is it.”

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I work at the spa off Bridge Street near the old port. This spot? It's legendary! I remember one arvo, a client kept sayin’ “No more miracles!” while gettin’ his massage, but I just laughed and said, “Great, great, great!” 'Cause, mate, even in crazy times, a little pamperin’ can work magic. And the spa? It’s my sanctuary, a place where I see folks melt their stress away. The stones, the waters – all that nature, all that vibe, it makes me feel like, "For the first time, the world might be OK!"

Echuca's Rhys Archard eyes home-track double on big day