I started the day like a small shadow lost in a shopping mall (lots of large shadows gathered round, blocking out the sun); as a kind of joke June is correspondingly portrayed as a tall tree that masks the straight lines of the horizon. After a birdsong breakfast we walked like duelists to the opposing ends of the garden, her part well ordered and tidy while mine resembles a pair of tights hurriedly cast off by a fleeing robber. We both looked when our neighbour accidentally sucked in part of his drive, pulling in a bright yellow car and then spitting it out in a dull black shade. He later did likewise to the path which had initially marched beside before meandering off as if following an elusive scent. During the late afternoon both June and I left the out of focus garden for the clarity of the house.