We've just been to the Central Market. We're walking down Flinders Street on our way back to the car.
Nostradamus is carrying the pineapple, the potatoes, an onion and a large bag of oranges, in two bags, a green one and a yellow one. Pliny is carrying tomatoes, broccoli, a red pepper, pears, apples and grapes, in a blue bag.
The sun is shining but it's cold in the long shadows of the tall city buildings. The sky is blue and full of fast moving clouds.
Through the glass windows of a gym Pliny sees men doing laps in the pool. On the road just out from the footpath she sees a pigeon strutting in the opposite direction on bright orange legs.
You are lucky, says Pliny to the pigeon. You never have to carry any shopping.
You are lucky, says the pigeon. You have a great deal of food.
You are luckier, says Pliny. You can fly up into those clouds which are the best clouds I have seen in a long time. The lower ones are cotton woolly, puffy and fast. The upper ones are like tiny ripples on the surface of a pond, and appear not to be moving at all.
Its cold up there, says the pigeon. And if I could go anywhere I would rather be inside the gym.
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