Let's imagine all life is departure.
WestJet 12 heads east, Mrs. Wah drives off in her Honda, King Pigeon vacates the upper northwest tip of the next building, the Queen City Vending van turns north out of the hotel parking lot having serviced the VLTs. I leave page 33 of Miranda Pearson's The Aviary: "Flying low, pressing through the calm, wounded air".
In and out of sight, these events, but only if the eye stays home.
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