A loose knot of wasps dancing over a lump of mud at the end of my steps.
Burst of startled gold dragonflies erupting from a patch of timothy grass by the #15 bus stop on Cornwall.
A dainty pointy-faced schizophrenic in heavy black boots and short white pants stepping carefully off the curb.
A kamikaze horsefly barrelling into the side of my nose as I cut through the park.
My strangled yelp, followed by an attempt to look like it wasn't me who just screamed at being hit by a horsefly.
A crumpet dusted with icing sugar masquerading as breakfast food.
A politician in a cream suit and wine shirt, face like a shaved ferret, speaking smooth unaccented French into his cell phone.
Cool hallways girding the pedestrian mall.
Lots of ladeez.
A grasshopper drifting sideways into a concrete wall.
The sound of the impact impossibly dry, dryer than kindling. And strangely loud. How did so much crackling crawl into a grasshopper's armour?
Cabbage moths whirling around thistles on the cut by the rail yards. A few kept pace with me as I passed by.