Because you can walk through walls
And saw yourself in half
Because you are the guest who never left
the face we can’t remember
and the name on the tip of our tongue Continue reading
A short poem about ghostsigns
ghostsigns
Fading signs in Moonee Ponds
A definition of the vague term ‘psychogeography’ is “the study of the specific effects of the geographical environment … on the emotions and behaviour of individuals”.
One way of exploring the psychogeography of a city or suburb is to simply drift through it, trying to sense the moments when the atmosphere changes and your mood alters correspondingly.
I felt such a shift as I walked along Holmes Road, Moonee Ponds. It was around the moment when I spotted the signage for the Chinese restaurant. The words ‘Eat Here or Take Away’, shaped out of some soft and impermanent substance, looked as if they had been half eaten themselves. Continue reading
James Flood’s exclusive limousines
We head west, the Whitten Oval at our backs, and walk along Sunshine Road into West Footscray. The name Sunshine Road suggests a rustic fairytale, but the reality is industrial – a railway track on one side, factories, old mills and warehouses on the other.
I like this kind of landscape, especially when you come across old painted signage like this, visible from Stradbrooke St, which reads ‘James Flood Pty Ltd’ in cursive script. Though defaced by tags, it’s a beautiful piece of work. I had never heard of James Flood. But in his day, his cars broke speed records, raced aeroplanes. Now that Australian car making is all but dead, it’s worth remembering him.
Sun Theatre and Coffee Palace, Yarraville
And so to my home suburb – Yarraville.
The Sun Theatre is probably Yarraville’s best known feature, and although it is a principle of my walk to focus on things that are little known rather than landmarks, I can’t pass by the Sun. For one thing, it is such a beautiful Art Deco building, one of the best in Melbourne. For another, it’s a great story of restoration. Continue reading
Guest post: Growing up in the Yarra Coffee Palace
by Lucia Nardo
The first time I entered the Yarra Coffee Palace was late 1961. Our family had been forced to move from our rented home in Williamstown with its large productive garden. The Palace, with its faded name painted high on the front façade, was altogether different. The dark interior of the building smelled of mould and was layered in dust. Instead of a garden, the land behind the property sported a dilapidated stable, complete with rusted tools and a horse cart. I’d never seen wheels that big on anything. To a small child, used to a compact home, it was confusing and intriguing. This abandoned incarnation of the Yarra Coffee Palace was dense with untold stories. Even at the age of six, I wondered about the people who’d stayed there when it had been a temperance hotel. Continue reading
Melbourne Circle: stories from the suburbs 