I turned a corner in the village shopping precinct of Yarraville the other afternoon and saw this stencil of Michelle. It took me right back, a few years ago, when I had my first encounter with Michelle. I was working in a shop near the station, across from a park, and I heard wailing and crying followed by shouting and swearing. I rushed to the door to make sure everything was okay and all I saw was Michelle, sitting alone and cursing and shouting at whatever tormented her. She would come into the shop and browse the jewellery. She always picked out two or three pieces and then showed me she only had ten dollars. So the haggling would begin. I became fond of her and, over time, much less wary of her yelling and cursing. When she died, the whole village mourned. We miss you darling.