Maria Street, Petersham on Friday, 19 June 2020

This street is entirely residential, nice little houses with porches, each one has its own character. 

One house seems to be derelict. A huge poinsettia is growing over the broken entrance gate to the front garden. I dare to go in. Steps lead up to a grill door which allows a view into the room beyond. Suddenly I get a terrible feeling that it’s not deserted. Someone lives here in between the cardboard boxes, rags and old newspapers and I’m intruding.

It’s a bit like the old milk bar in Parramatta Road near Johnston Street. For years the door was open every time I drove past, but it looked dark and forbidding. Once I ventured inside. There was no merchandise or food, just empty chocolate cartons and posters from another time. While I was snooping around, a terrible voice suddenly yelled from the back. I didn’t wait for the owner of the voice to appear. I read later that the Olympia Milk Bar used to be an institution in that neighbourhood.

Today, at the house in Maria Street, there is no sound. Maybe it is deserted after all. 

Twice I meet a young woman with pink hair, each time going in the opposite direction. First, she is with a small boy, later she has two boys with her, one in a school uniform. She looks very young and I wonder if she is the mother or the nanny. If I was a little boy I would like to have a mother like that.