THAT WALK I love through the apartment complex near Malthouse with the central path, the little garden lights leading the way, the small hill you arrive at where you can see the Melbourne skyline. I often wonder if I would like to live in these apartments. But they are very close together, and to sit out on the balcony would be to sit out in front of everyone, to be on display, and this would not be a comfortable way to enjoy the view. Although the soft chorus that the current residents sing as I pass is beautiful and comforting. They know their roles and have accepted them. I don’t think I would be so gracious.

As ever, the box-office person asks to see my proof of concession. I reach over the perspex barricade and grab the person by their hair and shake them until their eyes roll out of their head. They are now ineffectual in their job as they can’t see anybody’s proof of anything, all they can do is listen as each audience member steps forward and says Hello I am here to see the show and have paid – what I can afford, and the world is immediately a better place. The eyeballs have rolled somewhere on the foyer floor. They are never found. One of the rushing front-of-house people, or a distracted patron, stepped on them, thinking they were a snail lost or a piece of food thoughtlessly dropped. They sighed and said ‘Euh disgusting!’ and went on their way.