However, in the morning there is light on little leaves high above where we walk. A bicyclist strays by and turns a corner. The mournful cars, symbol of where we have got to, stand pleasantly silent in driveways and gutters. The noise is lorikeets high above, scarlet gumflowers scattered on pavement where we walk. Children have sleep-in, in anticipation of next week, when they won’t sleep in. On cool slopes there are the hundred shapes of gardens and their corresponding greens. Bedraggled agapanthus lean every which way when it’s end of January. A topical cat sits at a typical gate.