bakehouse qtr

how much labelling could make a building built for biscuits in 1908 seamlessly slip into the 2020s?

Image Credit: Ariana Haghighi

a child is walking, crying, out of the i-Med radiology lab

     mum has one hand on her phone

        the other clutching an X-ray sized envelope

       sparing a pinky for them to cling to 

   they

   disappear

                                                         beneath

a faded red pedestrian bridge

with no ends

sandwiched

between

a never-ending wall 

of ageing red brick

and the flashy glass panelled offices

of the folks that built it.                     

Arnotts (Pty 

Ltd)

today I came to see

        the place my father worked at straight out of uni

              eating and breathing biscuits, nine to five daily

                   before returning to a share-house round the corner

just like me:

“BAKEHOUSE QTR,” 

the modern glass balconies, massive blue trapezoid pillar directory, window installation littered with logos and faux gold-plated bin tell me.

how much labelling

could make a building built for biscuits in 1908

seamlessly slip into the 2020s?

here, 

you can hear a hum, buzzing

like trucks lined up with engines on, ready to leave

or the echoing of decades of revving machinery

here, 

you’ll find orthodontist surgeries beside heritage street lights

a dance academy behind      a

WARNING

AMMONIA LEAK

sign

deliveroo drivers and      mini golf courses       and     my cup of chai

yet still 

space 

where the factory met the train line

for a 

patch 

of grass 

    someone escapes to on their lunch break

    carrying a plastic container

              of coles pumpkin soup

                          at their side.