VUT at St Albans has a gum tree plus portables feel that reminds me of the 1970s, only the buildings aren’t as brown as they were then. There’s no doubt as to what country you’re in, even if the maps and building signs seem so generic. In the middle of a field with a horseshoe-like hill around it, there’s a lonely sign proclaiming it to be an emergency assembly area. It feels like you’re on the edge of »
A pallet of old monitors sits by the roadside, all wrapped around in plastic. I wonder where they’re going? »
I walked along Bell St from Sydney Road in Coburg to High St in Preston, scoping out more of what’s now been My Side of TownTM for 6 months now. I still wonder how can I call myself a Melburnian when there’s so many roads around here that I’ve neither seen nor walked down? Little things try to pull me back to old haunts, but I’m trying to fit in some exploration time »
Standing just behind the tram driver on the way to work, I can look through the smoked glass and notice that the button on his console to make that familiar “ding” sound is labelled “gong”. It’s odd, unexpected, and seems like somebody’s private joke. »
It’s tiring walking against the peak-hour crowds – coming into the city when everybody else is trying to leave. Whenever I’m in a crowd I can’t help feeling as if I’m in the way, and there’s a sea of unhappy faces to fuel my paranoia. »