Okay — no dallying, into it~!
let me set some ground rules—the shots first, during which you will have time to ponder (a) what the hell is it, and (b) is this guy quite the full quid?
ANSWERS WILL BE PROVIDED
in the latter half of the post. And, bear in mind that clicking on any snap should take you to a larger version of that snap. Your browser’s return button should bring you back again. Free, too …
YOUR FIRST CLOSE-UP—
study it as if your very life depended on it. If you were down here in New Zealand there’s a remote possibility that it could.
So try this on for size, and don’t get tired—
Ready to give up yet? If not (I had a whole lot more like this below, but let the one represent the whole. Whole lot. Wholly, the lot … the holy lot? Brrrrr …) we’ll be moving on—
—brick wall, right? Yep. Anyone can see that it’s a part of a brick wall, no prizes for that. The prize goes for what is it a close up of?
for some answers. And of course the settings, without which your lovely close-ups are simply abstracts. That first one, for example (I could call it The Crippler ‘cos nobody who’s seen it so far guessed correctly) is simply (SFX: drum roll here, please, and make it good) a rail. A rail in a track, as in railway track—specifically the line that runs past St Mary’s Basilica in Invercargill. I got some weird looks when taking that shot …
OUR SECOND is a cross section of a once happily growing object in Queens Park. The management there seems determined to eliminate all trees; and as a hugger from way back (even before tree hugging became a recognised sport*) I hate that their plan looks to be on track for turning a once lovely woodland park into a sterile sparse savannah dotted occasionally with token trees. He was a tree, take him for all in all … I shall not look upon his like again. R.I.P
still working on it? Don’t lie down on the job—you might get tired, or in English: tyred.
That’s a close up of a car park, located next to the Masonic building south of Tay Street. Doing okay so far? Don’t fret, the next was a gimme—
IT’S A CLOSE-UP of St Johns Anglican Church in Tay Street. (You don’t get much closer than that, boom boom~!)
It’s close to where I stopped in their front yard (lawn) and got down on my knees to snap the snippet on the left here. I came over all philosophical and attracted yet more interest from folks who are beginning to recognise me as a mobile landmark, some even wave now and most no longer nudge each other with nervous giggles when I get close.
I got to pondering—if the church and grounds have been blessed and/or sanctified, does that mean that anything encompassed by the bounds is likewise holy? If so then it’s just as well I didn’t swipe any of those lawn clippings and other detritus left over from the autumnal gales, ‘cos filching holy grass might be a sin and God knows I have precious little going for me when I front up to St Peter (gate warden) as things stand already.
And to fully answer that question: yes, I am the full quid (had you worried, though …).
* I could tree-hug for New Zealand at the Olympics~!