In spite of the very heavy rain we’ve been experiencing in Sydney, I still managed to get out and take some shots this week. I find my week feels a bit empty if I don’t take at least a few shots.
The turning bridge at Glebe Island looked like it had been shaded with charcoal but the seagulls were still there. It is, after all, one of their favourite gathering places – even in the rain.
The park bench, usually a much sought-after spot, faced the bay alone, waiting for the rain to clear so it could return to busier days of birds pecking for seeds around its feet, children jumping, and people with packed lunches sitting for hours, pondering.
A momentary break in the weather saw the church tower, face raised to the skies, trying to capture and clear away the clouds. Challenging the rain gods, singing the Hallelujah.
The break in the weather continued and Victoria Park was resplendent, the colours bursting into view like they sometimes do after grey-black days, hand-painted, bright. Even the bare, winter trees were beautiful.
This photo made me think of a scene from an independent film a little bit anti-establishment in theme where the actors are walking past a designer store all radiant and luminous against the rain, promising of things better than Christmas; thinking: ‘Screw you Louis Vuitton. Your shiny smile isn’t going to help me now. I’m late for work because there was water on the tracks near my train station and the five dollar umbrella I bought keeps blowing inside out with the wind.’
The actors walk by without glancing into the store.
The wind picks up. The rain falls at acute angles, sneaky, running down sleeves and the back of necks. It gets increasingly harder to get around. Some people get fed up and just head for home.
And then the rest of us hide under the bed.