When Max got off the plane in Melbourne, he couldn’t get off the plane. Instead he turned into the cockpit, compelled by the lights, pulled into a sparkling, startling new version of his plane ride. Unaware of pilots or areas not for infants, he scanned the display of diamonds and emeralds that had just flown him from Adelaide to Melbourne, and then he himself had to pilot all the language he had available for such magnificence. He said “pretty,” and the pilots looked kindly down.
The small boy was walking along the footpath the other morning with his dad and he was carrying a box of glazed doughnuts. As they walked past the shop windows, his dad said: we’d better get home, get the doughnuts home, hey, and then I’ll be getting married. The child was staring down at the glazed chocolate in amazement. The man was staring up at the grey sky in amazement.
They continued on past the shop, looking neither left nor right, just walking along together in amazement.