Backlit, paper-diorama-skyline autumn morning: headlights, streetlights, a pile of bakers’ trays outside the corner shop, students taking photos of leaves.
On the bus, the man in front of me said that café culture is wasted on him because he doesn't drink tea or coffee. He went on to explain that he could never eat Weetabix without sugar.
At the supermarket, the woman with the piercings and leggings was complaining because the Festive Yard of Scrumptious Jaffa Cakes Christmas Pack she’d bought “is just a long box with some normal packets of Jaffa Cakes inside”.
I turned the radio on and a woman said she’d had to leave her son to get himself to university on his own because she'd had to go and visit her "energy master" in Bali. I turned it over and a man was singing “She maxed her credit cards and don’t got a job” to the tune of a Duran Duran song. I turned it off again.