I first stumbled, quite literally upon Randazzo park after a few drinks making my way home one night. 

I noticed the boulders, each with a letter lit up. 

R -A-N-D-A-Z-Z-O

At the time, I was bedazzled by them as they seemed like a very cool art installation. 

From that point onwards I referred to the park as Razzo Dazzo.

The name actually derives from a Sicilian village called Randazzo, where Brunswick has ties with. With many Italians living in the suburb, the park often has the feel of a piazza. 

Friends will gather in groups to sit and talk. Often split by gender, the older men on one side of the long bench and the nonna’s next to each other further down, one or two with their knitting needles in hand. They watch the young kids kick a ball in the small patch of green, whilst behind them young parents swing their toddlers on the small swing set. 

It’s a charming park, with almost everything you need. Huge trees overhang a couple of recliner chairs where you can lie back and watch the birds swooping.

I would often come and eat my lunch on the picnic table during lockdown, and after a while I started to notice the same local character always there. 

“my name’s Steve” he would say to anyone passing by… “what’s your name?” 

Always trying to start a conversation with strangers I sensed some loneliness and wondered what his story was. In a year where we have become so isolated, these small pockets of outdoor spaces are so important to keep us all connected, wherever we come from and whatever our backgrounds. 

“you’ll know where to find me…”