When I arrive unannounced on Pine Street, it’s 2pm on a scorching hot Tuesday in mid-January. I’m directed to meet Rachele Meliani, who is offered up as the Pine Street spokeswoman.

Folk are all gathered in a circle in the garden of the main house, painting patterns onto singlets and enjoying a shared cigarette.

They say no drugs or alcohol are allowed at their safe space.

Daily activities often revolve around arts and crafts.

The ‘common house’ is home to five squatters. A typical day in the life on Pine Street always starts with a ‘family’ feast here.

The Reconstruction Authority has twice switched their water off, though the squatters have found crafty ways to reconnect it themselves. They’ve also manufactured their own electricity by connecting batteries to the solar panels.

After breakfast, it’s usually time for a workshop of some sort, like yoga or painting. Or, for some, a chill-out session will do.

Downstairs, under the pillars, is where the action is. Two pianos, three guitars and a set of bongos surround a furniture heavy space.

They share clothes from a communal rack.

A makeshift sign in the common house.