Rotundas can break me out in nostalgia. Sometimes it feeds on my own memories of special times. Or it reprints in my mind a display of a beautiful light, anchoring my thoughts to a particular place.

These drifting moments, though, are not just limited to places I know or those memories I can still defog and enjoy. More often, a rotunda will take my thoughts to times long past, well before my own carbon footprints began their journey.

I often time travel in these old,...
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Rotundas can break me out in nostalgia. Sometimes it feeds on my own memories of special times. Or it reprints in my mind a display of a beautiful light, anchoring my thoughts to a particular place.

These drifting moments, though, are not just limited to places I know or those memories I can still defog and enjoy. More often, a rotunda will take my thoughts to times long past, well before my own carbon footprints began their journey.

I often time travel in these old, round structures I find for the first time - creating a mingle of music, gatherings, play and fun through a somewhat rose coloured imagination. Ideas of a passed time based on unknown, ghostly faces staring from sepia toned prints I've seen in historic books. Or the 'yesteryear' features in community newspapers looking to fill pages at a cheaper rate than covering issues more recent.

This morning I wandered down to Balmoral Beach in Sydney. The sun was just rising and the usual suspects of joggers, walkers and swimmers were intersecting their lives with nods of recognition and the occasional praise for such a beautiful winter's day. Others, more focussed on the less significant, didn't bother.

Amongst all this there was a short moment when the space near the Rotunda went quiet. Not a single silhouette of a jogger, a talking troupe of walking women or the sniffing shapes of dogs stretching their leashes looking for somewhere to pee or crap. Just some trees and a rotunda that had seen it all many times before.

Through that moment a couple walked down the path, past the statue of Billy and towards the beach. Their hands held each other with experience and tenderness. Though out of my earshot I could see they were chatting and relaxed. The rotunda had company and, for now, time was still.

I'm glad I was there and very happy I remembered to press the shutter button.
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