A girl dressed all in black is running for the bus, with black hair streaming from a scrunchy. Something white is written on her back.

In the garden of a house on Old Pittwater Road stands something like a covered well-head, gabled and dark. Entropy is stong with this one.

Three women jog shoulder to shoulder in Mosman, their shapes encompassing Before, Work in Progress, and After.

The storage place at Brookvale has a deep blue field enclosed by thick yellow diagonals, but the rest of the wall is white. At a glance, in the glare of morning, it presents as one big gable.

Two dogs trot past crystal water filled with their reflections.

At Central Station, shimmering colours draw the eye to a figure kneeling with her back to the train. Sunlight has found her thousand glittering sequins.

Elsie is stuck fast after 24 hours gnawing on the flats. Her teeth are locked in the concrete but no one can help her. They haven’t come to work today.

At Brookvale Depot a woman stumbles across the driveway with a stroller, reaching and bending to catch a small boy running free. A small girl is splayed across the stroller’s front, as if to be drawn and quartered.

Four elderly women sit round a table at the bread shop, their attention given to one knee out of eight that is swathed in bandages.

Maisy’s cafe in Neutral Bay. Two men discuss music and Dominicans, and one breaks mid-sentence into Gregorian song.

When the train doesn’t stop at the places in between, it’s a long trip from Newtown to Ashfield.

A man works on a telegraph pole, his cherry picker hidden by the trees.

The old railway workshops at Redfern, up and down the gables, all the way along, are neatly labelled “Sleaze”.

A woman boards the train dressed as a khaki cuttlefish, hat pulled low and face mask tapering to the middle of her chest.

Two friends cross the road at Spit Junction with the ease and grace that youth has granted them. A weathered old woman hurries past with a shopping trolley.

Two dragonflies are circling in the car park heat, multiplied by their shadows. A lizard climbs to the top of a terracotta fragment, scans the horizon, then hurries down to cross the hot white surface in a run of darts and dashes.

Five powerful young men in dark blue singlets swagger across Military Road. They go into MacDonalds.

A man walks into a tiny yard on Spit Road, Mosman, mops his face on a towel on the washing line, and goes inside.

Sydney Observatory is a copper green pimple on the casino’s face.

A girl on the bus struggles to disentangle a cord from her hair. Tightening it at last, she flicks rivers of glorious hair into the space behind, where a young man is trying to read a book.

Four people cross Pittwater Road under their own steam. A man tears past them on a mobility scooter.