(no subject)
there is so much heroin on Victoria street now.. i've grown up with that street - when i was a kid, Richmond was the bleaker, industrialier place across the river that i'd escape to when i couldn't tolerate Hawthorn a moment more. sure it was traditionally a fairly rough area, but Richmond never gave me a single bad incident in all my years of nighttime wandering.
nowadays the sheer number of people dealing and using heroin along the Vietnamese strip is staggering - at some stage the dealers moved out of Russel Street and into Richmond. it isn't something that phases me overmuch, but . . every time i see someone buying smack outside a restaurant my family used to eat at . . it just feels odd.
last week, as i was walking home through the dark and the rain, the footpaths were unusually crowded as people tried to stay under cover. walking the whole length between Church and Hoddle, a series of progressively more brazen transactions took place right in front of me - i was having to jostle past guys while the haggled with caps and cash. when i had finally left that throng behind me, i found North Richmond Station blocked off by police tape - a man's body was lying face down beside the entrance, police taking notes.
i keep walking, turning those images over in my head, mixed up with the residue of my nine to five.. i reached Smith Street however, and there discovered that when caught in the rain, cute girls can use newspapers for shelter, holding the paper overhead, like a little roof-shaped hat..
the contrast is still permeating my miasmatic head-space, multiple images placed together with no tangible thought or context joining them. like a series of numbered 'Untitled' prints on a white gallery wall.
nowadays the sheer number of people dealing and using heroin along the Vietnamese strip is staggering - at some stage the dealers moved out of Russel Street and into Richmond. it isn't something that phases me overmuch, but . . every time i see someone buying smack outside a restaurant my family used to eat at . . it just feels odd.
last week, as i was walking home through the dark and the rain, the footpaths were unusually crowded as people tried to stay under cover. walking the whole length between Church and Hoddle, a series of progressively more brazen transactions took place right in front of me - i was having to jostle past guys while the haggled with caps and cash. when i had finally left that throng behind me, i found North Richmond Station blocked off by police tape - a man's body was lying face down beside the entrance, police taking notes.
i keep walking, turning those images over in my head, mixed up with the residue of my nine to five.. i reached Smith Street however, and there discovered that when caught in the rain, cute girls can use newspapers for shelter, holding the paper overhead, like a little roof-shaped hat..
the contrast is still permeating my miasmatic head-space, multiple images placed together with no tangible thought or context joining them. like a series of numbered 'Untitled' prints on a white gallery wall.