There's autumn air and an old woman shuffling with an equally aged dog along a street in The Rocks.

A text from Noonie in Perth contains an image of a giant seagull sculpture capturing perfectly (perfectly capturing - Mrs McMitchell?) the kind of gormless expression that mainly only seagulls achieve.

The new cemetry gates are installed but they're locked for a whole day. A man tries to drag his dog away down the street but it's fixed on staring earnestly through the bars.

DeLillo's characters surprise me. Random observations juxtaposed to undercut the narrative. I like Denise. She is truth.