Piglet, the Portaloo, is once again completely surrounded by water.

Aggie read with all her being,
but she didn’t need to squawk,
So she wasn’t like those other girls
who are because they talk.

Sascha Martin’s Aliens: an unpublished adventure

A woman in leopard-print pants pulls a leopard-print shopping trolley past the cafe. An old man shuffles after her, three paces behind, head down and eyes locked on the wheels. He alters course with the trolley, as if it’s pulling him along.

Safe above freshly hung political posters, a young man relaxes on a balcony. He’s playing guitar with his back to the street and someone, sitting opposite, moves her dangling foot in time to the music.

A young bloke leans on a pillar out of the rain, holding a single long-stemmed rose.

A polite elderly woman enquires about routes to the Dee Why Grand, and the conversation turns to her love of coffee.

Me: There’s a place inside the Grand …

Polite elderly woman: No. They make shit coffee.

A woman speaks loudly but indistinctly on the phone. Then she announces, in a tone of surprise and very clearly: “I’ve lost confidence.”

It’s raining in Sydney, and the outdoor cafe has become a pedestrian thoroughfare.

🐶 A dog called Tilly 🐕‍🦺

6.00am: on the sleeping work site, light shines inside a window of the half-demolished flats.

A dog is desperate to investigate the bicycle smoker, who is now lying on his back with his phone in the air. The dog has a big, solid head and a low centre of gravity, and his human struggles to rein him in. The dog leaps and prances but in the end he yields, trotting away with a final look of yearning.

A portly, smiling man ambles across the grass in shorts and t-shirt with his phone half-raised, and talks to the bicycle smoker. He looks up and calls out to the terrace, and a full-voiced conversation ensues: loud, good-natured, familiar. When he turns away there’s a bag slung low on his back, black with “adidas” in orange. He wears short white socks and trainers.

A man sits on the grass, smoking a cigarette. His black shoes lie on one side, his straw hat on the other. Beside the hat is a prostrate bicycle. The man has ear buds, a phone, and some kind of cup in his hand. He tips his head back and drinks.

A very old man descends the ramp with a walker, stopping once to realign. He passes right beside me and his eye is fixed straight ahead, but I can almost see it straining to turn in my direction. He’d glance, I think, if only getting down the ramp didn’t require his full attention.

A woman pushes a buggy. One side is a stroller facing forward, containing a little boy with red hair. The other is a pram facing backwards, with its hood up. The little boy lifts his hand and waves at me. I wave back with a grin. His mum smiles.

Two dogs have come to meet their human at the bus stop. One is a fluffy white poodle type who sits looking relaxed. The other is a small black chihuahua with a white chest and tan highlights, who stands looking anxious and sniffs the air.

They’ve parked their other human on a step nearby, with a phone to keep her occupied.

Selfie cam looking straight up at the Dee Why Grand

Sunday morning. Strange things happen when building sites are closed. Overnight, a big plastic supermarket food container has appeared, lying upside down beside the drink bottle diving through mesh, and a Pepsi can is perched on the nearest ball of twisted, tangled rebar.

Two small schoolboys are passing on the pedestrian way. One yells “Bye!” and waves towards the terrace, following up with a burst of information I can’t make out out. There’s no response, and the boys continue on their way. Suddenly a child’s voice rings out: “Bye, Harrison!” The boys turn and lift their hands. “Bye!”