There’s a mural at my school, painted by year 7 kids in the year 2000. (Until fairly recently, year 7 in Qld was still primary school.) I’m not sure “mural” is the right word, it’s their handprints and initials. Those kids would be their 40s by now? Every time I walk past it, I think about those “kids” and where they are now, if their lives turned out the way they wanted (as if anyone’s does).

Anyway, that mural got painted over yesterday by the groundsman. It’s now plain white, and I’m a little sad about it.