Revolutions are not made; they come. A revolution is as natural a growth as an oak. It comes out of the past. Its foundations are laid far back.

Here is one from last week. Yes, more rigging set against an ominous sky. Like the weather, I am predictable if nothing else!

That said, today I have been treated - incredibly - by a clear blue sky and a nip in the air that suggests the rain may have abated for a while. It has, however, left its mark with the water across the whole waterfront area a lovely shade of brown (pictures at 10). For a second there I was confused, thinking that I was strolling along the Yarra River!

In this, the existential melodrama of life took a decidedly Lynchian twist (without any bald midgets).