A man crosses the road at Neutral Bay, stepping out just before the lights change. He’s a big man with white hair and a moustache of steel, and he holds two take-away food containers in one hand. His other arm is pressed to his jacket, trapping some material there that is bright, fluorescent orange. Some of it hangs like a ribbon underneath, and I can’t begin to imagine what this orange thing might be. It really bothers me.