A journey through the streets of Melbourne late in the evening reveals these places to me. Non-space that is revealed by inaction and stagnation on this crisp autumn night.

The lane behind the Post Office on the corner of Elizabeth Street and A’Beckett Street is nice and clean and open, as far as lanes go. It’s filled with big brown leaves from the tree on the road outside, they seem to get blown inside by the wind, and pack loosely into drifts along the sides. At night fluorescent beams radiate from the end of the lane. They project through the bars of the underground carpark that is the main reason the lane is still used. As you walk down the sloping road towards the light, the lane changes from the original rendered brick walls to greyed concrete. On the right hand wall is an 8-foot long tag in silver bubble writing. There’s the comforting hum of a hyperactive air conditioner, even in the depths of winter, which leaks water across the lane, creating two separate dark puddles, and the noise of dripping. Twice now I’ve seen an elderly homeless man, sitting on the concrete plinth at the back of the lane with a large plastic carry bag. He seems to be quite comfortable there. From where he sits you can look out down the lane, past the tree canopy peaking round the corner of the post office, and out to the skyscraper who’s name escapes me, the one that stands next to the ANZ one. On a warm sunny day, there’s not that many public places in the city that offer such a private secluded spot to drink a couple of longnecks and take a nap.