It is a somewhat of a cool day, overcast but still warm enough to go out in just a t-shirt.
I’m sitting on a monument, Buddy, Bruno and I, while Sam shops in the city. A game from Harvey Norman and then a quick stop off in Big W, to check out the game merchandise they carry.
It is a triangular patch with roads on each side. The traffic rushes by. It is kind of nice being an island as the world rushes about around you. It is empowering. The calm despite the storm, which makes for a heightened sense of peace, in a way. Hiding in plain sight, is that what they call it? Sort of, it has that feeling to it. It is kind of thrilling, that feeling of being alone in the middle of everything, the only man standing. I wonder if that is what explorers feel?
We walked Buddy and Bruno to lunch in Lygon Street. All the guys who own the cafes come out to look at the bulldogs. And the bulldogs love it. Buddy revels in it, they get lots of pats. Bruno is a bit more stand-offish than Buddy.
And now we’ve made it as far as Russell and Victoria Streets. There is a big patch of grass, with some granite obelisk in the middle. I didn’t take much notice of what the obelisk was for, initially.
Buddy and Bruno sat down facing the direction in which Sam left. I thought of that dog at the train station in Shibuya, Tokyo. I started writing my journal on my phone. Notes on my phone, I use it all the time.
The grass is green, I slide my shoes and socks off and felt nature against my toes. It is cool, like the soil that holds us up, which we never notice usually.
A man with bright red carrot hair stops, in khaki shirt and khaki shorts like he is Steve Irwin, with his two kids and they pat the dogs. Maybe he was just matching his outfit to his hair, I thought. You know, green for rangas. It made me chuckle to myself. Maybe he was attracted to the bulldog’s coiffure. He was very polite, he said please and thank you.
I lean back against the monument and gaze at the kids tentatively patting the dogs, and Buddy and Bruno just loving to be adored. Then they cross all the roads like they were looking at the architecture, or some such thing.
I gaze up at the monument to see it is commemorating the 8 hour day. I’m all for the worker, so I like it. We are diagonally across from Trades Hall so it was to be expected, I guess.
A lazy Saturday, to be sure, with my favourite guys. Should we have walked into the CBD with Sam? I don’t know?
I dig my toes into the blades of grass. It is nice sitting here, I know that much.
Sam arrives back. The dogs do their little happy to see him bounce on their front legs. We head off in the direction of the Carlton Gardens and home.
The fat man in khaki with the bright red hair and his kids cross the road from the other direction as if they are continuing their never ending tour of life. He says hello again. I say hello back, as though we are old friends now.