'When Abu and X return, all six of us sit in a circle in the centre of the rehearsal studio, surrounded by the graffiti quotes on the walls. I try to forget that the quote about Muhammad is up there too, but to me it sticks out and throbs like a cold sore. Jo stands and slips her hands into her pockets. She’s put her casual voice back on, the one that makes her sound like a Black boy from Redfern, and she says, ‘So, yeah, um, hope you enjoyed lunch. Here’s what we’ve got planned for the afternoon . . .’ She instructs each of us to take one of the cameras she’s lined up and go out onto the plaza pretending to be a character from a movie or book or a story we’ve made up. She’d like us to film our character’s interactions with the community. I want to know what’s the point of this but it seems that every time I ask a question I reveal my ignorance and simply get a scoff or a wince or a sarcastic remark in return. I blame Punchbowl Boys – how uncivilised that place made me. If only I’d gone to a school in Newtown or in North Sydney, then I’d understand art. Maybe Jo wants video footage that explains how mundane interactions escalate into violence, which always seems to happen on the streets of Bankstown.' (Introduction)
