Walking to an afternoon’s ocean swim through the beachside car park, two children and their mother skirt a flower of smashed ceramic, crunched by passing wheels into a smattering of small angular petals.
What was once a china plate decoratively mosaics the grey bitumen. White pieces glinting hard-edged in the sun.
Daughter observes that her father has often driven off after leaving a plate of food on the roof.
Son says they even use a flattened fork, retrieved from the scene of one such domestic accident. ‘Very flat,” he stresses.
Wryly their mother observes: “How very two dimensional of him.”