Here lies Stephan.
The months, the years of Queen and Bowie mouthings in sweaty, after-work clubs frequented by suits 'tween birth and death; the countless nights in the company of pale white Russians—sometimes black—and yellow and green chartreuse soldiers staring out to sea; the chrome plating of show-reel wheelers that held his eyes and the low resolution snapping of a flick-top mobile; the lust for the South; the pounds of impeccable pastries crafted with an artist's eye in two cross-town kitchens: these were his downfall; the pace couldn't be kept, and eventually, one day, he just let slip and lay dead—out on the tiles of a favourite—and was dragged by countrymen to the cemetery where now he lies under the epitaph:
It's true that honesty seems to always fail.
Street Address
Melbourne, Victoria
Phone Number
ESTABLISHED MELBOURNE, 2018
