The plane passed very low above the street and Trina put her fingers to her ears. She always did that. It was a natural reaction against the noise, threatening to be a violation of some sort of auditory balance. It passed and the world got mostly quiet again, just a faint roar of the machine in the distance, disappearing southwards in grey clouds somewhere where the sea evaporates into the sky.
How to Cite
Sciepko-Cram, D., (2007) “Greyscapes”, Opticon1826 2.