Although enduring embankments of marine-adapted plant life stretch down inland corridors, the most frequented shores of Sydney Harbour are now variously articulated with stone, concrete fortifications and grey dock timber stakes. In Circular Quay – an international passenger terminal and tourist precinct - the waters of Port Jackson do battle with the driven shafts, blades and bellies of harbour vessels. I lean on the chipped green railing at Commissioner’s Steps, it’s raining, and the dock workers are smoking, restless to send off the lately moored cruise ship with passengers waving from the upper deck.
Over the hours ship spotters have accrued under two young, bedded Morton Bay Figs, crossed legged with books, umbrellas and cameras. “When’s she leaving?” they ask neon-vestees “Is she on time? When will she go?”. The interrogated shake heads, open and close gates. I turn my lens to the waters, unexpectantly variable in colouring on an overcast day. Carried into the port by winds, currents, tides and wakes, the broad waters have narrowed to the tight angulation of the quay, and here the body hoards intermittent patches of leaves, oils and plastics, leeched, plucked, or delivered by the wind or by the hand of neglect.
