Mallacoota, Victoria
Mallacoota is a small town in the East Gippsland region of Victoria, Australia. At the 2006 census, Mallacoota had a population of 972. At holiday times, particularly Easter and Christmas, the population increases by about 8,000. It is one of the most isolated towns in the state of Victoria, 25 kilometres off the Princes Highway and 523 kilometres (325 mi) from Melbourne. It is 526 kilometres (327 mi) from Sydney, New South Wales. It is halfway between Melbourne and Sydney when travelling via Princes Highway, though that is a long route between Australia's two main cities. It is the last official township on Victoria's east coast before the border with New South Wales. Mallacoota has a regional airport (Mallacoota Airport) YMCO (XMC) consisting of a gravel runway for light planes and an asphalt runway for commercial planes flying from Melbourne.
It is known for its wild flowers, abalone industry, the inlet estuary consisting of Top Lake and Bottom Lake, and Croajingolong National Park that surround it. It is a popular and beautiful holiday spot for boating, fishing, walking the wilderness coast, swimming, birdwatching, and surfing. The Mallacoota Arts Council runs events throughout each year. Mallacoota Inlet is one of the main villages along the wilderness coast walk from NSW to Victoria, Australia.
Podcasts:
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by Malkuth
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by Malkuth
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by Melua, Katie
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by Malgudi
Malkuth
by: MalkuthGrief...
...It's our splendor.
An archaic tragedy of
Our erotic dark desires,
I'm insane, totally insane
Nobody in the funeral,
Nobody cries to the solitary coffin
This lies under the candle's flame,
The flame dance as a sinuous and seductive body of
A viper woman
There are not flowers in the sad grave,
There's a sweet and empty forgetfulness sensation,
The blood is the essence of the life,
An endless anxiety, without course,
But there are still statues in marble of forlorn angels
They console the fertility of your bosoms,
They'll give as gift a black rose for you
But also there is not black flower,
Just a thorn of a cursed rose
Pricked in your angelical finger
And beautiful, the blood will drain
And my tortuous and serpentine tongue will dry this red tear,
When my chains involve you,
When your long and gold hair interlace
With strange force in my hands,
My journey will be long, but my time infinite