Every week I cross town on the train and we pass a tower block of identical grey-frame units which have grey balconies. One balcony, at eye level with the train, has a bright pink inflatable flamingo hanging like a lurid fern, I guess somebody went to Florida or Havana and brought it back with them […]

Today crossed the old abandoned airport towed by a dog I felt the mist rising all around and how the sun burned a white hole in the dense white sky: people have erected little winter gardens using pallets and old baskets, others were flying their kites.