“What is that thing?… And what’s that smell?” Anyone who’s spent enough time in North Bondi for the wind to change direction will have heard a visitor ask such questions.
How the depressing daily journey into work was made just a little more depressing, so the people of Pine Street could get a good night’s sleep.
On a narrow street in Newtown a giant dog towers above the traffic. Passers-by double take at the massive sculpture. Cars slow down as they pass the trailer it sits on, and come to a stop as drivers stare.
Joseph has the Wednesday evening commuters bouncing to a reggae beat.
Perth artist Mike Rigoll finds, “Every truly big city has its own energy: a heady, pulse-quickening verve that can overwhelm or inspire in equal measure.”
With three professional fights to his name Ben Wrotniak is far from a seasoned boxer. You can imagine people still describing the 26-year-old as “a good kid.”
In the bain-maire at Four Seasons Chicken Spot in Kings Cross, the pickings are slim but fatty.
Scruffy Murphy’s is more associated with glassings than gastronomy. As a serious foodie who eats at least three times a day, I’m a little nervous about what the chef will plate up.
Three of our islands exist only in name because they have been sold by mysterious debtors. We demand to know: Where are our islands? And who got the money?