a dad comes running down Irvine with his girl on a trolley, careening towards the corner: WHICH WAY? WHICH WAY? he screams and she screams THAT WAY, flinging her arm out into the blurry world where I am behind a window unlatching you with one finger, bringing you to the other shoulder and adjusting the pillow. now the girl is pelting up Piddington in gumboots that come to her knees, then she's gone. you make small skittering noises and I rub your back firmly. lorikeets witter around the oak's lower branches, and a lone dog with wild blond fur gallops down Irvine, across Piddington and up Kerferd, glancing back as it rounds the bend. the girl runs down Piddington, pauses and looks up Irvine, then takes off down Irvine. I bare my breast. you pitch your body in and latch yourself. it's starting to rain. the dog is running up Irvine, towing the girl on the trolley. trees are emptying their forms, yellow expanding as a screen.