Loud, violent laughter seems to take posession of a pub, which I am passing. I get the impression that it lives there and could erupt again at any moment.
In the blue sky, two vapour trails intersect and become a cross, like a christian cross. The wind up there is blowing hard and the cross changes to one where all four sections are equidistant. A few second later, the cross becomes a T and then an L.
Today the wind is biting and people walk with their hands in their pockets, their shoulders hunched forward, and look as though they are trying to shrink into themselves.