It was a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new.
When the money has been pegged to the blue sky and the clouds and time to the earth, I will then take all of the grey cubicle dividers from the world’s financial planning offices and the money-moving offices of every middleman and middlewoman, and I will carve them into geometric shapes and make a labyrinth in the red centre of the outback.
(Sue Stevenson, ‘The cloud of undoing’, Southerly, 76.1)
A hackney car, number three hundred and twentyfour, driver Barton James of number one Harmony avenue, Donnybrook, on which sat a fare, a young gentleman, stylishly dressed in an indigoblue serge suit made by George Robert Mesias, tailor and cutter, of number five Eden quay, and wearing a straw hat very dressy, bought of John Plasto of number one Great Brunswick street, hatter.
‘Elias always believed his own stories,’ Norm said through his eyes, while his jaws tightened with a sense of resignation, while he continued to look out the window at the dragonflies—blue, red, green—flying around Elias’s boat.
(Alexis Wright, Carpentaria 4)
A leisurely job scraping the summer-dried fish guts from his paint-weathered boat, his head down to the work, wondering about painting the boat some fancy colours—capillary red, or a kingfisher’s azure blue, or sunflower yellow. Oh! The good old days. What a memory. A reminder of the showing-off days when men were men, and the fish were plentiful, and boats never dreamt about the colour of camouflaged grey.
(Alexis Wright, Carpentaria 2)