I hear a peacock in the street. It turns out, to my disappointment, to be a very small baby.
An old couple walk past the cafe where I am sitting. He wears a flat cap; she, her white hair short and clinging to the curve of her skull. The both have red, zip jackets. They are a little unsteady on their feet and hold hands.
The crow, which has been pecking at the grass, flies into a tree and begins to makes its cawing noise. It stretches it neck forward and moves its head up and down with the effort. It is violent and unrelenting, But its enemy, if there is one, cannot be seen. Some squirrels and a magpie on the grass beneath the tree, take no notice.
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