Richmond has many back access lanes; it's a labyrinth of cobbled alleys. Bins stand a watchful guard along garage doors and high walls. There are fewer trees here than in Hawthorn where I live, but jasmine is everywhere.
An orange cat, it's neck ringed in bulky fur, sits leonine on the roof of an abandoned car. He watches me approach and launches himself at my hand, which I offer him to smell. He rubs against my hand for a while and then sits back on his haunches to watch a nearby window.
The car has several windows missing and the licence plate is gone too. It's a metal skeleton sucked dry by unseen carnivores. "Diem" someone has scrawled across a door.
I cross Punt Road into East Melbourne. There are no abandoned cars here.