Sunday, 23 August 2009

I run with scissors so that I may cut flowers from gardens if they please me

The house on the corner of Alma Avenue is set square and terrifying, the drop from the rooftop enough to reconfigure your idea of broken bones. A vase in the front window displaying a bunch of artificial hydrangeas in white. No furniture is immediately visible from street level. Through one of two narrow side windows, found before a heavily secured door and situated several metres down Alma Avenue, a print of Wheelflower by Margaret Preston can be seen if you stand on your toes. It is an ordinary print and not grand in size or frame. All lights on the upper levels burn bright. Rendered in wedding cake cream and sculpted with plaster replicas of I know not what plants a decorative bas relief spreads above the large front window. The window itself draped with a perfectly white sweep of evenly parted curtains. The function of this house remains unclear.

On the corner of Phillip and Charles streets, as ordinary as ice cream, stands a single-story miniature of the monolothic sculpted cream and coffee terrace. This house appears to be lived in.

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