tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23523103790199771042024-02-20T20:48:27.756-08:00ghost signs MelbourneYou see a building. You see an old, faded sign. We hear a story. Listen.ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352310379019977104.post-27487201693151748172011-06-19T02:34:00.000-07:002011-11-01T17:09:35.644-07:00Ghost signs Melbourne #23: Knit wear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYFiTmsDpK3FS7F5hfsNdrfWsPY_wTAhw7tQbcVg7avaIu1sTwxbCHloXQlDsgohaWjfyv2kw4Cgkt7BA1e_63sjgNAT3stNBFuhAEWlDip8wYRQyRwFIZvog35fNXdqhrn9LR6EI5QWu/s1600/UnionKnitting02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJYFiTmsDpK3FS7F5hfsNdrfWsPY_wTAhw7tQbcVg7avaIu1sTwxbCHloXQlDsgohaWjfyv2kw4Cgkt7BA1e_63sjgNAT3stNBFuhAEWlDip8wYRQyRwFIZvog35fNXdqhrn9LR6EI5QWu/s320/UnionKnitting02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Railway Place, Coburg</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_T30oynilXUFyCg002J97eZYUMb3DWpucLf4KcBiWgpjzCxEKX0Ci5Qpk9pUNLz90f4vFHWo0g4aYxYHP0MHNrhXp1FdkXL7d_JV9owGsGTw7OBl9m4qbw3ukV-XIEzS2X2ZSKJHn9Zu8/s1600/AKM05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_T30oynilXUFyCg002J97eZYUMb3DWpucLf4KcBiWgpjzCxEKX0Ci5Qpk9pUNLz90f4vFHWo0g4aYxYHP0MHNrhXp1FdkXL7d_JV9owGsGTw7OBl9m4qbw3ukV-XIEzS2X2ZSKJHn9Zu8/s320/AKM05.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Australian Knitting Mills, Stewart Street, Richmond</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span lang="EN-US"><br />
</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US">You should be on the radio, they said. </span>When<span lang="EN-US"> they </span>rang through<span lang="EN-US"> their </span>orders for scarves<span lang="EN-US"> and </span>gloves<span lang="EN-US"> and </span>Fair<span lang="EN-US"> Isle </span>knits<span lang="EN-US">. What with that voice. </span>(And why not? Alfred thought. With his excellent teeth and hair always combed, and he <i>could</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> sit in a chair for a long, long time.) And then lovely Miss Rosen had commented that day as she placed Dodson’s order. You’ve got a voice like flannel, Alfred. Just</span><span lang="EN-US"> as smooth and </span>soft<span lang="EN-US">. Which was ironic. Although he never said</span> (such a nice woman, long since passed)<span lang="EN-US">. </span>But the thought<span lang="EN-US"> made him smile</span><span lang="EN-US"> as he sat in his chair knitting their orders: he spent his entire day working in his pajamas.</span><o:p></o:p></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the morning, when Alfred took his exercise and walked down the hallway to the bathroom, he </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">hung</span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> the shaving mirror </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">o</span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">nto a towel hook. It was just a game, really. Something he liked to do to break the day. To watch the way his throat moved as he talked at the bathroom wall. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He liked to think each word had a shape with a weight he could actually see, right there, beneath his skin. </span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Goodnight, and good luck. May your news be good news. To all our loyal listeners out there, this one is for you.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As all of their business was conducted over the telephone, what his customers couldn’t see were Alfred’s hands. He had the Matheson hands – they nearly all did, his father, five of his six brothers – astounding really, for someone his size. Small pale things they were, the skin soft from all those oils in the wool. The customers admired his voice, but </span><span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alfred Kinsey Matheson</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> loved his hands. They were, quite simply, his dearest friends. There was no one else so loyal, he thought. And tireless: they simply never stopped doing their best, always for him. The constant click of the needles as they purled and ribbed, cast-on and bound-off, wool looped and plaited and braided. </span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But something was wrong, and now Alfred was concerned. His fingers were becoming stiff; the joints swollen and increasingly sore. So perhaps a change was needed, he thought. He would take his hands on a holiday. Together they would leave the AKM building (it had been done: there was his brother Alson, although <i>that</i> was another story altogether). Of course he’d need a suit, which he could knit, no problem there. He'd start on it straight away. Then he’d slip his hands inside some soft merino gloves and off they would go. It was always possible. He just needed to think: where would they like to go?</span></div></div><div></div>ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352310379019977104.post-57609196703621358812011-06-07T03:23:00.000-07:002011-06-15T18:26:29.809-07:00Ghost signs Melbourne #5 : A walk in the dark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7wUs4wCeLHHOnvQk4ohdsG-tY1Gvz4dEfx_nK1ZhHEOxoZTdfodLdOt-WR3lCcXSm2IK9N6hq8j_TRykTRmwKXX5QM3idT4AtPJym6pepHCzSacyZ2HntOUDPLFYmvHiZ_gHOvKi6r_P/s1600/GhostSignsMelb-Lyon01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD7wUs4wCeLHHOnvQk4ohdsG-tY1Gvz4dEfx_nK1ZhHEOxoZTdfodLdOt-WR3lCcXSm2IK9N6hq8j_TRykTRmwKXX5QM3idT4AtPJym6pepHCzSacyZ2HntOUDPLFYmvHiZ_gHOvKi6r_P/s320/GhostSignsMelb-Lyon01.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dI2d9r8_8qWc949DaHaInAg4_ooxXWjW3dEzEwWPUiilu4jWXeTj0gCtNYpw8zdNm7CtzaOhGdae-smwgwmRbZUXFdwApylHBPN9bElStxJ7RvEiyOZ_hTaJI8jw6dBngH4d3evZ2KhN/s1600/GhostSignsMelb-Lyon05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dI2d9r8_8qWc949DaHaInAg4_ooxXWjW3dEzEwWPUiilu4jWXeTj0gCtNYpw8zdNm7CtzaOhGdae-smwgwmRbZUXFdwApylHBPN9bElStxJ7RvEiyOZ_hTaJI8jw6dBngH4d3evZ2KhN/s320/GhostSignsMelb-Lyon05.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cnr of Fenwick and Lygon Streets, North Carlton</span></td></tr>
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</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">She had the kind of face that said my life would be a dream if only I could open my eyes. The kind of face you sometimes see floating around these streets you just get this urge to lean across and scratch. Ok, so maybe that sounds nasty – but truly it's not – because really all I want is to sink my hand into the sweetness of that cheek and take a scoop. And then I would just walk away – this big smile on my face – cos all I can taste is strawberries. Christ, for a face like that I’d give up breathing and tuck away my nose, if only I knew she’d wrap me up in her skirt and cart me home. Now I know that to look at me you wouldn’t think it, what with my legs and funny ears, but I fold-up really small, as compact as a pea that you could roll inside a pocket or your shoe. Why, she could prop me in a cupboard, just like a rabbit or a doll. Or maybe she would lay me down inside a drawer. Because my knees fold flat, my head this little spigot and if my arms will not fit, well, I won’t need them, let's simply store them away. For what a life this would be, so warm and snug amongst the sheets and the teatowels. With small shavings of wood collecting between my toes from when she opens the drawer each night to say hello; and to look at me – her special pet – lying in these fields of lavendar. </span></span> </div>ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352310379019977104.post-81586649908374414752011-06-07T02:52:00.000-07:002011-06-25T18:09:40.197-07:00Ghost signs Melbourne #22 : Fiddling on the roof<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpa0od7-EeZWUHxV63ADFqhtNP1-3P6XgUtxk_smesqM-PcBMkiju7ZMkSEAHgjdb7AYz9E163FON_J7LbfvnD6cJb8OhBsl8XsBZTTtpB4tIYs91QAZuepabBeypUJzpk0FrGFPvjJx9/s1600/TailorMade01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpa0od7-EeZWUHxV63ADFqhtNP1-3P6XgUtxk_smesqM-PcBMkiju7ZMkSEAHgjdb7AYz9E163FON_J7LbfvnD6cJb8OhBsl8XsBZTTtpB4tIYs91QAZuepabBeypUJzpk0FrGFPvjJx9/s320/TailorMade01.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sydney Road, Coburg</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">They heard footsteps on the roof, they said. But how do you know these things, I'm thinking, how do you compare? Hearing footsteps on your roof is not like someone walking on your head; there is no weight, no pressing down of a foot until your neck starts to give. This is just an echo, an invisible pebble rattling above your head. Well, it was sort of a light tap, they said, not a heavy sound but a soft tread that was steady and sure and followed a path up the walls and across the roof. The walls? Now you hear walking on the walls? Because to me – and don't get me wrong – it be could be a bird or a cat when you think of that beak and those nasty claws, or any other sort of animal that likes to sneak around in the night and stain your walls with their shit. But we have proof, they said. And promptly walked out of the room. But while I stood there – listening to doors opening and closing, to the sounds of their returning footsteps on the carpet in the hallway – I thought of toes, lots of toes. Of course, with toenails neatly clipped and maybe socks or maybe not, but still toes, just toes inside shoes and squashed against each other as each foot in its shoe left its mark on the wall: a clean print against the brick. Proof. When they walked into the room, one of them was carrying a box, and from this they took a pin cushion, a pair of pinking shears and 5 steel pins which were placed – carefully, wordlessly – on the table before me. She just stared at me (which is really unnerving when you consider those eyebrows), while he kept nodding like some tall, lumpy poodle until he spoke. Now do you believe us? </span>ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352310379019977104.post-27683513590529655552011-05-11T02:47:00.000-07:002011-05-23T02:54:56.776-07:00Ghost signs Melbourne #11 : a wild gallop<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtHDaNhHZfX4ZAI6Q4Qj5hfI1oqtm7S5tmFRGEWbsGjK0ca3F34M20z2ROlyBXAAsKgIWoRNlxfRCB7yxFb6kWPnZFKe-fwk24gbnyHpTPg8NEtSsgmVjD4rCVCgj7iWzuLTMD9MGPMiT/s1600/CarnationHouse01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtHDaNhHZfX4ZAI6Q4Qj5hfI1oqtm7S5tmFRGEWbsGjK0ca3F34M20z2ROlyBXAAsKgIWoRNlxfRCB7yxFb6kWPnZFKe-fwk24gbnyHpTPg8NEtSsgmVjD4rCVCgj7iWzuLTMD9MGPMiT/s320/CarnationHouse01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4iJbyLkjRegxUJM4OfvUfaQXbCXtSThzM_qClpEtEzTtN7N9QuQzKfU7n-xpBfhTS0QxeyOlztP-m7WZl0GAo-QJllgTKOFzIue6gg0vM4ciOhR6YetdXm3WgtXZsVRVyTEoIeeYCVsV/s1600/CarnationHouse02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4iJbyLkjRegxUJM4OfvUfaQXbCXtSThzM_qClpEtEzTtN7N9QuQzKfU7n-xpBfhTS0QxeyOlztP-m7WZl0GAo-QJllgTKOFzIue6gg0vM4ciOhR6YetdXm3WgtXZsVRVyTEoIeeYCVsV/s320/CarnationHouse02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Cnr Ballarat St and Scandinavian Crescent, Talbot</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcyo5ypGdjte-Dv-chnkfQ_AMHUY9qQsIqsLVXRfn_-p1NBDJmhE4-IwWxpgm3aTJkkmww5Jtq4TJNSQQRLaUBuvSo-1unLoNrXWjpZTs4fZn8sBLSpraJTedhPKaHYxBm6ahkOYgM9Pnm/s1600/Talbot01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcyo5ypGdjte-Dv-chnkfQ_AMHUY9qQsIqsLVXRfn_-p1NBDJmhE4-IwWxpgm3aTJkkmww5Jtq4TJNSQQRLaUBuvSo-1unLoNrXWjpZTs4fZn8sBLSpraJTedhPKaHYxBm6ahkOYgM9Pnm/s320/Talbot01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5_EDzF2kRUOy75DDKR3a-5oZar5qLPE4slCfu_NVqpzh_y4vfHTLiqjtcC3ikgSUZX_OrNlFGiYSPiT2YqVSGSrd8ZnvopE_ifki4umEw21Nv6BXlPYAU_8jrco9hUzrUeGaCVtphiH_/s1600/Talbot02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW5_EDzF2kRUOy75DDKR3a-5oZar5qLPE4slCfu_NVqpzh_y4vfHTLiqjtcC3ikgSUZX_OrNlFGiYSPiT2YqVSGSrd8ZnvopE_ifki4umEw21Nv6BXlPYAU_8jrco9hUzrUeGaCVtphiH_/s320/Talbot02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ballarat North Street, Talbot<br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">we waded ashore in Talbot, cold and soaking wet; it was a long, long ways from Clunes and the horses were sore and hungry. when we were lost at sea this shuttered door was our beacon; a friendly wink in the dark. once fed and rested, the horses could no longer be restrained: they were off at a gallop.</span></div></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352310379019977104.post-34076990094498845962011-05-07T22:10:00.000-07:002011-05-23T02:55:46.815-07:00Ghost signs Melbourne #5 : running with a bull<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10VZiGeVrYUrgGlHYjdoqjveX-ioShUiQdal_QUJ5JhDTgbZPyQ_1EC3bWz_MzTdPm4N9ZFywAtTYuu0eDJzgELxAg2DloNShE8mm7uQPAzNcdkxxHITPQqOtYEkcrLQe60PKQ3dwB6wn/s1600/BuffaloHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10VZiGeVrYUrgGlHYjdoqjveX-ioShUiQdal_QUJ5JhDTgbZPyQ_1EC3bWz_MzTdPm4N9ZFywAtTYuu0eDJzgELxAg2DloNShE8mm7uQPAzNcdkxxHITPQqOtYEkcrLQe60PKQ3dwB6wn/s320/BuffaloHouse.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Union St, Brunswick<br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Large and bovine – with a reputation for the unpredictable – we approached this one with caution. Of course, the horns are long-gone; last seen, locals tell us, above the trolley pole of a W-class tram.</span></div></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352310379019977104.post-17778332326153701492011-05-03T02:53:00.000-07:002011-05-07T21:17:22.582-07:00Ghost signs Melbourne #4 : time for a cuppa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMvBOijzwh0eQgzgB-jU3AZA4JTkbnqF6p8f_dclCvHHU2FX1nvGhsOb5csN-LY4BgQ4JBiz4_XUgrQG7YQJNwHH6E5cliw70XfsoUH4FhUEdTkt7UO7VnpoBjJYhgA9YWQwbTg67woTt/s1600/ParkSt%252CCarlton03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMMvBOijzwh0eQgzgB-jU3AZA4JTkbnqF6p8f_dclCvHHU2FX1nvGhsOb5csN-LY4BgQ4JBiz4_XUgrQG7YQJNwHH6E5cliw70XfsoUH4FhUEdTkt7UO7VnpoBjJYhgA9YWQwbTg67woTt/s320/ParkSt%252CCarlton03.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaXo8aXzhyphenhyphenuWyVJ2pzKQffnAynZsL-z7hLQfrKBr5kaWxUJ41uVaORs6sLT-V-XEV0AI7DmrkDldkhM2zQ0dnPzuodLK8y1T1fuWDXdbW_MDDhOdX5meA1Vh3NLRe5M4OtqpzLoiK5a_w/s1600/ParkSt%252CCarlton04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFaXo8aXzhyphenhyphenuWyVJ2pzKQffnAynZsL-z7hLQfrKBr5kaWxUJ41uVaORs6sLT-V-XEV0AI7DmrkDldkhM2zQ0dnPzuodLK8y1T1fuWDXdbW_MDDhOdX5meA1Vh3NLRe5M4OtqpzLoiK5a_w/s320/ParkSt%252CCarlton04.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7sjdBTiD3LZv8Hg4szvffSmprPWzfZAmonW8n9eHwMTh5JXPNLFKmvidcsD_RXJrziRg6k7DTx4I7VG_nxqy6NxfcnmCK3TZmDNiOqjhDtki4_FERhyw0pTTM0MandPeiUs607CzbHVe0/s1600/ParkSt%252CCarlton02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7sjdBTiD3LZv8Hg4szvffSmprPWzfZAmonW8n9eHwMTh5JXPNLFKmvidcsD_RXJrziRg6k7DTx4I7VG_nxqy6NxfcnmCK3TZmDNiOqjhDtki4_FERhyw0pTTM0MandPeiUs607CzbHVe0/s320/ParkSt%252CCarlton02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTZnxcWxTbRLeriPiNXCwzibXXiD3p3e4gT_LCuyUUrcx3PFnGHVqYqN6ZQvUxSbLg-XGctnHQJw673UPYeFKVuUiF44Xop_GLlAzjMT6qG9-0iCMs7d0jTD7r-lLgyD_SaIlZ2rMQ-Vt/s1600/ParkSt%252CCarlton01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNTZnxcWxTbRLeriPiNXCwzibXXiD3p3e4gT_LCuyUUrcx3PFnGHVqYqN6ZQvUxSbLg-XGctnHQJw673UPYeFKVuUiF44Xop_GLlAzjMT6qG9-0iCMs7d0jTD7r-lLgyD_SaIlZ2rMQ-Vt/s320/ParkSt%252CCarlton01.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Park Street, Carlton North</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The neighbours thought it was a house. There were the windows, the front door; the walls of solid red bricks. And for many years this was what it was: a house. But just as the trees in the backyard grew taller over the years, so did this house. Windows lengthened, the walls pushed upwards, and the tenants started to leave. For it was not just the noise and the cracking walls that made people despair, but the heat: the constant, boiling heat. The chimney drooped into a thin curving spout and several roof tiles formed themselves into hinges, so that on a night when the wind blew hard from the north, the roof would gently lift like a lid before it settled, on the house, once again. So now, there it stands, on the corner of Park Street, Carlton North: a teapot.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352310379019977104.post-87306923007266766232011-04-30T22:52:00.000-07:002011-05-21T21:12:13.515-07:00Ghost signs Melbourne #3 : The Lonesome Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZDmPSwijGvKLP847Cn1OlSV8qI8fUBIw50PALTOtEul49-e8bbB-sv-bldt0jjzAUbN8YrS68UKcwR0pG0BG9TE7JUvjk9hVZRgIeGvaLq1r_7VUvhbmGbjouMs7rFBv37GxxslHd_q_/s1600/LonesomeRd03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZDmPSwijGvKLP847Cn1OlSV8qI8fUBIw50PALTOtEul49-e8bbB-sv-bldt0jjzAUbN8YrS68UKcwR0pG0BG9TE7JUvjk9hVZRgIeGvaLq1r_7VUvhbmGbjouMs7rFBv37GxxslHd_q_/s320/LonesomeRd03.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtBQ0_jBZ5e4qoJMvHWjQwdsIOPJH1-VUBnAvArtp7P6qJwWJ3ASFjrgEPErUqJpdnI7UoKYRkdco4ZQzBf3LeWvooZlW119akfz3xDSqifyWpArFcOpm9CRWRihnhW2HGcmgNVg3AxKOn/s1600/LonesomeRd02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="89" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtBQ0_jBZ5e4qoJMvHWjQwdsIOPJH1-VUBnAvArtp7P6qJwWJ3ASFjrgEPErUqJpdnI7UoKYRkdco4ZQzBf3LeWvooZlW119akfz3xDSqifyWpArFcOpm9CRWRihnhW2HGcmgNVg3AxKOn/s320/LonesomeRd02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ballarat Road, Footscray</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was indeed a lonesome road in the wild wild west – of Melbourne – where this offer of folk and coffee hovered above a deserted shop front. A forlorn and lonely ghost indeed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">ghost signs melbourne</span></span></div>ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352310379019977104.post-31709570588809773912011-04-30T22:07:00.000-07:002011-05-03T03:00:01.247-07:00Ghost signs Melbourne #2 : the repaired foot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5f0mtVZ62-vi7kRabIEmRIsEUHfb8yyanVA74Pr4E3qk7FBjSA_YhcWPSBWXD3B-IWtBqVvIWoGxx1muqlGAKCeeiVldy8U9huUvt9XndHZAKQ-POlSdRUjw7WL-rJcNrmxbpGZ51Wd86/s1600/LittleCollinsStreet01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5f0mtVZ62-vi7kRabIEmRIsEUHfb8yyanVA74Pr4E3qk7FBjSA_YhcWPSBWXD3B-IWtBqVvIWoGxx1muqlGAKCeeiVldy8U9huUvt9XndHZAKQ-POlSdRUjw7WL-rJcNrmxbpGZ51Wd86/s320/LittleCollinsStreet01.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Little Collins Street, Melbourne CBD</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the hand gave it away. all 22 of them. the rest would follow once the feet were repaired: surgical in its precision.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">ghost signs melbourne</span></span></div>ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2352310379019977104.post-84593288780251881692011-04-29T22:27:00.000-07:002011-05-03T02:56:13.516-07:00Ghost signs Melbourne #1 : A Footscray fiesta<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-0fSudfe8eh37U6oL7JVw7LkDGRpZZRX9hU4ZpADP5cc-EoT9PsgEPmYHF5CfQ48Z1Tri7ifZk9Vxpwc0KHb2v5stMCqz_QUhAXrSn15_j6vMPXCDAZGynP7YrU7vYSHanr4MW39zP1h/s1600/Fiesta01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-0fSudfe8eh37U6oL7JVw7LkDGRpZZRX9hU4ZpADP5cc-EoT9PsgEPmYHF5CfQ48Z1Tri7ifZk9Vxpwc0KHb2v5stMCqz_QUhAXrSn15_j6vMPXCDAZGynP7YrU7vYSHanr4MW39zP1h/s320/Fiesta01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPNt-yrr_9VY_DNqfWpzWSFEj7T-BjIUgRMXw_0Wpyc_l3Bh1R5UCVFW0gZ6605tUUsi_hwzf8Nduhi69RPbqUbCeOwg6RjLHoxhygZMkvWk5az__ybp28s2mL9dCOYzYdnD5bS3fcbOl7/s1600/Fiesta02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPNt-yrr_9VY_DNqfWpzWSFEj7T-BjIUgRMXw_0Wpyc_l3Bh1R5UCVFW0gZ6605tUUsi_hwzf8Nduhi69RPbqUbCeOwg6RjLHoxhygZMkvWk5az__ybp28s2mL9dCOYzYdnD5bS3fcbOl7/s320/Fiesta02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Paisley Street, Footscray</span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the hairdressers were oblivious and the travel agents thought it best to just ignore: this festive celebration slowly forming above their heads. the strangest thing, of course, was the collective amnesia. no one could remember what had been there before. a bowl of fruit perhaps?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">ghost signs melbourne</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div>ghostsignsmelbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01820357516524935777noreply@blogger.com0