The acid yellow of the crossing sign was luminous against the perfect vignette of the cloudless blue sky. As I paused to admire the contrast of colours I heard the unmistakable thrum of a plane preparing to land. Those of us who live in the inner west under the flight path are almost immune to the sound of aircraft, but I could tell that this one was close. I hardly think the crossing sign was intended for planes, but it was so low at this point it could have been.

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