The Melbourne of Night Fare is a city unknown to most of its inhabitants. This is not the Melbourne of bustling pedestrians, busy traffic and cosmopolitan cafes. Nor does it possess the pulsing energy of weekend revelling categorised by high heels, short skirts and lads in poorly ironed shirts. The football crowds have long since shuffled home and the last tram has well and truly passed.

This is the Melbourne of mid-week late nights. An eerie place where the odd car meanders along empty streets. Somewhere in the distance, track-work maintenance is hammered out under racks of fluorescent lights. The pavements are empty save for the odd lonely couple wandering home after last drinks. Bright street lights illuminate small patches of footpath, quickly losing the battle to the night that creeps into shadowy doorways and darkened laneways. The city's skyscrapers create a patchwork of half-illuminated empty offices. For anyone who passes through it, this is a solitary and ghostly Melbourne.