I'd jumped off the tram several blocks early after a glance through the scarred plastic window almost made me swallow my gum. Now I stood on the corner of Swanston and Victoria St in my sharp black suit, gazing longingly through the wire fence at an oasis of broken brick and peeling paint. I had means, I had opportunity, and- Eris be blessed- I had my trusty camera. Time to explore.
There is usually a handy hole in fences like these, and after a brief search I found that this one was no exception. A bold scrawl of text caught my eye and I drew closer to investigate, pausing only to dial up some suitable ambient music on my phones.
Treasure? Hmm. But the mass of tangled weeds beyond didn't look too inviting. I retraced my steps to Bouverie St, Portishead chiming eerily in my ears, and decided to pack up and head for the streets.
( Then I saw the view through the window.Collapse )