 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
|
Public
People - Nada Jolic
|
| urbanart,
Flush and Melbourne Fringe Festival 2002 present young emerging writers pushing the boundaries in public space publishing |
| Melbourne
Belongs to Me Listen carefully: There's a rhythm to this. People flowing in this busy street. Three businessmen, briefcases in hand, Stand frozen; but all around them, Noise, movement. Trams break, squealing. Guide dogs compete with street sweepers. A careless backpack knocks an old man's glasses. A pretty boy rollerblader careens into someone. An impeccable businessman talks into a mobile phone, barely the size of his ear. A busker singing tunes gives up. The whirrs of two street sweepers become deafening as they Cross over: one on the footpath, the other on the road. Under the giant TV screen, two men hang from ropes and Attach a building-high Toyota banner. Horses and a cart amble by. People are on bikes, scooters, skateboard, rollerblades, Walking frames, wheelchairs. A punk walks by with 'Melbourne Belongs to Me' Stamped on his jacket. As if that could ever be the case. I want to run to him and say: You fool. We're all from somewhere else, Even you. We're all visitors, migrants, As if your one statement can undo centuries of transience. A city ambassador helps a Swedish tourist. Old men talk Italian. Young girls talk Vietnamese. It's all noise, movement, rhythm, life. And amongst this all, The three men stand, frozen, mouths gaping: This is the sweet cadence of lunchtime in Melbourne. Small
Things |