The burning crane

We like to sit on the narrow wooden veranda of the cafe and twist around to look at that dark, sand-strewn spot on Broadway, where the burning crane, that morning, failed to fall and so failed to crush dozens of cars, people and dogs.

Slow severe contortions

Since I was in a hurry and a sauntering figure was impeding my way through the building site tunnel on Broadway -- one of those people who must know they are impeding the way of those who take their schedules far too seriously -- I soon forgot the sight of the dying insect on the Wattle Street corner, whose slow severe contortions had occupied my mind entirely while I was waiting at the lights.

Pedalling bubbles

We all stiffened as she rode barefoot through us on the footpath on Broadway, her ribbed face determined on pedalling so that the hoisted rainbow wheel at her back would continue to dispense the bubbles as we waited for the lights to tell us to walk.

The dead seal

Obviously it wasn't really a dead and desiccated seal lying along the fence by the building site on Broadway, the sand seeping out of the gash in its side, its fur grown sticky from the rain that runs until it drowns something, day after day after day, and then, just as fiercely, disappears.

The signal

Last week, on the site of the old Kent Brewery on Broadway, of which nothing more than the scraped shadows of walls and the skeleton of a building were still standing – and from behind a fence that might have been made of giant Manila folders placed side by side – a large metal claw raised a single wooden window frame and then lowered it again.