Taylor Swift takes the stage in effulgence and pomp. New York comes to town rolling thunder, a million lights turning over, sequins and sirens. When every wristband lights up, December 13 girls scream laugh to irresistible sights of stage-show intensive, their heroine pumping every well-known lyric amidst a galaxy of white-blue make-believe-come-true. But it will all be put back in its container, folded down with a finger click, end. We walk homeward past shadows of big stadiums, across new grass of Jolimont, under ancient river gums, to platforms of charming brightened reality and carriages full of smiling tired camera-shy fans.