A beautiful summer day on Port Philip Bay.
Along the parks and beaches of St Kilda, everything was happening. In enclosed area,s, concert stages were surrounded by many hundreds of young people dancing to the crashing sound of what passes for music these days. Cyclists, walkers and runners thronged the many pathways and a few swimmers braved the waters.
But what noise is this to my right?
In a tree-shaded park adjacent to the beach was a group of what I can only describe as bongo drummers. The flying hands were a real eye catcher, and I tried to expose so as to get a sharp image, but allow the hands to blur.
There was no melody, but lots of rhythm. Shades of the movie “The Visitor” in which people gather in a park to express themselves on drums. There seemed to be no definite coordinating force, but some prominent players.
They were having a great time. I draw no conclusion from the many empty green bottles in the grass. It was a happy group and the rhythm was compelling. Some members even joined in by dancing in a style that reminded me of “Zorba the Greek”.
On this fine longest day of the year, and the day on which the world did not end, the citizens of Melbourne had much to celebrate.