A blonde lying her head on the ground as a mural on ACDC lane.
In the hard clarity of daytime, the blonde mural on AC/DC Lane loses none of its melancholy. The sun falls directly across the brick wall, exposing every flake of paint, every water stain, every rough seam in the old masonry beneath her face. Her head lies sideways against the painted ground, blonde hair unfurling in pale ribbons across the wall as though the city itself sketched a weary goddess in aerosol and dust.
Without the mercy of neon or darkness, the lane appears almost brutally honest. Delivery trucks rattle past, tourists pause with coffees in hand, office workers cut through the alley without looking up. Yet she remains there above them all — enormous, silent, and strangely intimate — her expression suspended between exhaustion and defiance.
The daylight turns the mural into something less romantic and more human. The overspray, the fading pigments, the scars left by older graffiti all become visible, giving her face the texture of memory itself. Around her, AC/DC Lane crackles with colour and noise, but the blonde woman seems untouched by the commotion, as though she belongs to another slower world hidden beneath Melbourne’s restless surface.
Sony A7RV
FE 35mm f1.4 GM
Linking Mural Monday
I recently lost contact with a close friend whom I had come to know through an online game that we played together for approximately a year. Due to financial pressures arising from his marital separation, including the need to provide substantial financial support to his former partner, he decided to leave the game and sell his account.
Although the friendship existed primarily within the context of the game, it had become a meaningful and valued connection. Following his departure, I realised that I was experiencing a genuine sense of loss. Reflecting on my emotional response, I believe I may be going through a grief reaction associated with the sudden disappearance of a friendship that had become an important part of my daily life.
