Two people walking a dog, one car. The cycle breeze in unfurling leaves and matted hair. Soporific tvs and a mating cat. Silky air that barely ruffles skin or hair or the cohesion of seed heads. And a hidden flock of seagulls circling towards the hospital across the railway. The generator buzzes. Unobstructed by trains or drunks or particulates, it insinuates along the track and into half-opened windows and I remember that it's always been there, just below the noise.
