Saturday 21 October 2000
resonate unto me
\The Mall.
Bourke Street.
It's Lunchtime.
I walk/shuffle/stagger under dappled light of the plane trees. The Anglo- Indian New Age musician plays an instrument made of tree branches and cat gut. The Music, deep harmonics, beautiful, vibrate and resonates unto me. At the same time an abandoned truck blockade that turns into a rolling convoy down Collins Street, blasts it's deep and very loud air horns in unison. The sound is not unlike Tibetan Horns,
No, not Lhasa-not even Byron Bay, it's Melbourne Australia.
At the bottom of the world.
The Manchester Unity and Century buildings reach skyward like 1920's European science fiction cinema.
The sun is bright like summer, but the breeze is cool.
People walk hurriedly towards Flinders Street with a determined stride.
I amble along against the flow, the wind, the people, the everything.
My large camera lens bounces off my pelvis. I'm an unco-ordinated voyeur with helicopter movements.
Long lost verandas turn the left side of Swanston Street into dark and cold corridors, like traversing a sheltered cliff shelf, really.
The time is now 3pm.
Passing the Coney Island Minarets of The Forum.
Back to the car.
On to the Bay.
C O N T A C T
