Metaphors of people

Sixteen months in Clearwater Bay - I am so getting into the details and their humour.  Every day, without fail, I ride or walk hills and swim.  Until a while ago I ran too - but am having some sort of hamstring grief that makes that hard for the time being.  The trip to Beach 1 takes me past this bus-stop, where chairs thrown out have been collected off the nearby tip by the local cleaners and lined up under the shelter for wary bus passengers to use.  Such a kindness.

I'm so struck how people-like our discards are.  Lined up, waiting, different shapes and sizes, with different features and talents.  The regular folk, some squeezing in, some claiming their space; the siblings that look so alike, one more punctual than the other; the business-person standing tall, five (not four) legs and wheels - rotating (you know, better, should be in charge actually); the robust twins; the slightly moth-eaten grandfather, old fashioned clothes and with a wonky arm, but properly dressed (and once a business man).  I just love it.

Further down, the slopes leading to the beach - overcast day - the phone camera couldn't handle the intensity of the greens and blues, so had to average things out with a dose of yellow (I fixed it with photoshop).  Tsk tsk.

 And in the parking-lot, a hammered over-nighter, with this delightfully out of context badge.  Made me smile, because I've crossed a piece of that road on a bicycle - just in that world the sign was blue.