I’m sitting on the bow of the Stradbroke Flyer; the ferry to Minjerribah…
I’m on my way to meet Kuya Howler to discuss his upcoming photo shoot. The hot fucking Australian sun is scorching (and I’m already peeling from the previous hot day), but the trip is *only* 25 minutes long and sunblock feels like motor oil on my skin, so I just enjoy the breeze. Next to me are a pair of beer-gut bogan’s with polo collars flapping in the wind while they hold onto their kangaroo skin hats and electric blue Oakley shades. Despite the semblance of civilization Brisbane affords itself, I’m truly out in the sticks.
I’m almost at the island now and in true Kuya fashion, he has not picked up his phone nor replied to my text…
