EAGLEMONT, VICTORIA 3084: 24/10/22
There is a fairy grotto with an ancient looking bottle of hand sanitiser sitting on the Blinky Bill tree stump, and as you walk out of the station underpass Burley Griffin is everywhere and nowhere baby: around the station the buildings are strangely tatty, rejects from an art deco slide night. There is a homeopathic mural of the shops at their white-aproned peak, but already the butcher is gone and there is an artisan hub. Long lush laneways run untidily behind the glazed gingerbread houses where someone is sawing something and someone else is feeding something noisily into a mulcher.