It would have been much easier taking Clare to the bus station (to catch the Flyaway to LAX) this morning if a whole lot of roads hadn't been closed for some kind of (very slow looking) race, or shuffle. But we made it, in the end... Here's a chunk of very autumnal looking sky in the passage that goes from the bus part to the train part: the pigeon was fortuitous. It's either a metaphor, or a compositional unifier. Take your pick.
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