A black plastic refuse-bag awaits removal at the edge of a garden. Some dead weeds pushing through a rent in the bag suggest a chin and untidy grey beard. Stretch marks in the plastic lead towards the tear. Here is an expression, you feel, but one without a face. Where the bag has been tied at the top there is the appearance of ears. But there is nothing to suggest eyes or a mouth - features, which we are supposed to look for in abstractions, to find a human element.
"No," says a father to a small boy in a stationers shop, which also sells books, "you've got lots of books at home."
Patches of light, reflected by the CDs suspended from string to deter pigeons, dance across the ground, over the vegetables, up the climbing beans.