I thought of the immense value of each person and of how it would be revealed should any one of us, or all of us, be threatened... for instance by a crash or a terrorist. I look at each person in the compartment and think how unusual each is.

'I'm glad I'm not a swan' (my remark after talking about the disappearing cygnets with someone sitting by pond 1).

'we're at the edge of a Spanish heatwave' (said to me by a man who was sitting beneath the trees around pond 2).

The trees are getting to look just a little bit tired. Some leaves have already fallen - green ones, perhaps bitten off by squirrels or by birds.

A magpie on a branch - it doesn't fly away as I come within 1 or 2 metres of it. Is it wounded?...

...No, it hops about as magpies do...

...but perhaps a wing is damaged...

...No, it eventually flies off and perches on the back of a seat...

...But while it was on the branch I was able to see how its legs move and how its feathers go together, and it seemed to look into my eyes...

...I've never been so close to a magpie. Has it become unafraid of people?

The sun's now disappeared behind the trees and there's a slight wind from the northwest and a few strange-looking streaky clouds still lit by the yellow sunlight. Time to continue walking... I put on my cap and jacket and drink some water.

I walked for one or two kilometres, letting the second hand of my watch determine my direction... it took me beneath trees in the dusk. I felt restored after the heat of the day.

(these pages are designed to be read with the window set to two-thirds of the screen width)