At mistress point, the Olympic size swimming pool sparkles in the luminous sunshine, peacefully content with the notion that everything is at your finger tips, such as that infamous Luna Park and its continually dwindling number of rides, yet she remains, as a legacy to the shore front. The water crystal clear sings you a silent song of seduction, as if a siren is luring you in to her clutches, a glance over my shoulder stretches the ominous coat hanger, which stands with strength and honour. I sip a beer as a piece of cargo on the docks awaiting my chariot the ferry to escort me home. Before I step away my attention is drawn back to the summer fun that’s almost testable on the warm sweet breeze of the afternoon, boisterous boys swap stories of shenanigans.
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