I work at Westfield Belconnen, est. 1978. The best way I could envision for you a day inside it is as a cut-scene from a news story. The news story is about rising rates of obesity. The cut-scene is one stories about obesity always use: a landscaped herd of bulging waistlines heaving towards and away from the camera, thick hands clutching large postmix soft drinks or half-eaten Subway sandwiches, the shot cut or blurred artfully so faces are obscured, the nasal narratorial voice intoning the pandemic qualities of fatness. The difference between that shot and my work is I see the faces.