Twenty five years ago, you turned twenty five.   It’s a bit of a milestone birthday, halfway to fifty, quarter of a century, but I don’t remember there being much of a fuss made.  We didn’t know.   Twenty five Bastille Days have passed by, and you have been absent.   A lot has changed since 1992.    The way that we communicate, the lens through which we view the world.  Internet, mobile phones, social media.  The streets of inner city Melbourne.   Our family has changed, by form and measure, contracting and expanding, transforming, evolving, for better or for worse. Perry Road is the same though.  The slaughterhouse still stands, incongruously beautiful, despite the prosaic grimness of its past purpose.      …