Spanish Home
06 July, 2018

I am on a tram, standing near the front (Melbourne). I am on my phone, and realise at one point a tram inspector has got on the tram and I don’t have a ticket. He is looking at me in a threatening way. We eye each other off for a while, quite animalistic as I consider my escape. He becomes distracted when the tram is pulling up, I take my chance and bolt. I escape successfully and run away, but don’t think he is chasing me.

I’m now in the back alleys of Coburg (near where Jill Meagher was killed). I make my way into a three story townhouse of sorts from the back lane, in an attempt to get out to the street (Sydney Road). The large house is rented by a lovely Spanish family, it is very spacious, old but lots of character, with brightly coloured walls (yellow, blue, red) and a lovely, warm feeling kitchen table with a fruit bowl on it. I run into a woman that lives there and ask her how to get to street level. She doesn’t seem bothered by me at all and lets me know how to get there. There is a sense of many floors or levels to this house and not knowing which one is ‘street level’.

I find my way to the front of the house, there is a lawn but the front of the house is all boarded up, I guess in an attempt to block out the busy, noisy, smelly traffic and city road.
I see a bunch of well-dressed women (ladies who lunch) out the front, and one is bragging about how she has just bought the house and will decorate it as her dream house.
I feel sad for the lovely Spanish family as I realise they will get kicked out, and it will become something boring, contemporary and generic.

Large, boxy, shapes