riding back through the city from Black Rock - Anzac Day was a perfect clear morning, with the rain just brushing the peninsula at the point where I turned back - I crossed Spencer Street and rode past the massive, bright facade of the casino, scootering carefully past tourists with wheely bags and packs of thickening men in their 30s who might have been up all night, or might not (it was 9 am). I took the footpath that runs across the grand casino entrance, and had a small and probably futile sense that I was somehow reclaiming, for a moment, a part of my city that is not how I'd like it to be.