Cirrus@Austlit

'When I am in the vicinity of the bench - it's in a quiet) shady Spot - here in inner Melbourne, I'm on my way to the supermarket. The first time I noticed the plaque and then stopped to read it - a few months ago, about four years after the death of Henry Joseph Kata - I was so moved by its simple eloquence, sincerity and the import of the loss on the person whose words they are, that I suddenly entered into a kind of sympathetic mourning and hung around for some time out of respect. The bench may not have been there for long, council approvals being notoriously slow, and since the route I take to the supermarket is relatively new to me, I can't say when the bench was first put in place. I'd go for recently. I'd guess there was a quiet ceremony, in attendance the deceased's companion and those closest to, I am assuming, her. Attached to the slats of the bench, next to the plaque, there is always a sprig of fresh rosemary. The soulmate's bereaved returns often, possibly daily and, I expect, sits on the bench with her memories. Communes. Although the bench is for public use in a public space, a bench among other benches placed around the large, leafy park in positions where shade or a broad view is maximised, I would feel as if I was invading another's intimate space if ever I sat on it. So I don't. Maybe, one day, grocery bag in hand, I'll see from a distance Henry Joseph Kata's soulmate attaching a fresh sprig of rosemary or quietly sitting out the afternoon, alone.' (Publication abstract)