Yesterday I found myself walking along Victoria Street in Richmond, and decided to buy some okra, one of the world's great foods. I found several Asian supermarkets that sell it, but sadly they kept their okra on the footpath outside. Victoria Street is fairly polluted, and I didn't want okra heavily laced with carbon monoxide.

So I started looking for a place that kept their okra inside, and I found one. But this minor success raised a new problem. I can't go inside a large Asian supermarket without having a good look at absolutely everything in there. And in a large supermarket, like this one, that can mean the loss of several hours. I spent something like twenty minutes just looking at the tea section, and then I remembered that I don't particularly like tea.

Eventually I stumbled out with a jar of eggplant pickled in chilli (why?), some mysterious black tea made of black beans and sesame seeds (why?) and a packet of soup seasoning that has "sea tangle" as one of its ingredients (why?).

I love Victoria Street. There's something enormously appealing about spending a few dollars on exotic foods that I will almostly certainly never eat.

A second obscure view of Fitzroy

In the middle distance is a tree. It stands in front of a two-storey terrace house. In the foreground is a letterbox, with a sticker bearing the words "deliverers of junk mail will be tracked down and incinerated."

An enormous quantity of junk mail is crammed into the letterbox. A phone company sales rep rings the doorbell. A print of Mount Fuji hangs on a wall inside the house, clearly visible through a barred window. A performance artist dangles upside down from the tree. He is being hit on the side of the head by a young man wielding a wad of junk mail. A crescent moon rises over the house. The doorbell electrocutes the sales rep.