Fences with messages.
I spotted this new street art on Madras Street on the way home yesterday.
I walked past it this morning and grabbed a photo, even though it was a tad pre-sunrise. I don’t know much about it, but it’s striking.
It’s always good to see new street art, gives my heart a wee spark.
Owen Dippie’s elephant mural on Manchester Street, when the elephants are dwarfed by bouffy clouds.
How’s this for a burger-selling ensemble? Best.
I often get to see this hopeful neon sign on a Thursday when I finish yoga. I find it beautiful. The tentative comfort offered by its words is like a hug from a friend giving you a hot cuppa when shit has gone down. Its non-flashy mantra is a counterpoint to the bold prettiness of the neon letters.
The artwork Everything is going to be alright by Martin Creed, and it is on the side of the Christchurch Art Gallery that faces the Christchurch City Council offices.
This bit of shimmer is in the Re:Start mall, a shop full of sparkly frocks.
And The Crossing Carpark looks oddly fetching at night.
Once upon a time, a long time ago, I used to take one big book on holiday with me.
Sometimes it didn’t pay off. I was enjoying chunky history tomes, and took one with me about Napoleonic times. I don’t think it was bad, but it wasn’t what I wanted at the time. It didn’t thrill me. So there’s a hefty book taking up space in my suitcase. I had to lug it around with me for the rest of the holiday and its weight in my bag spoke of resentment.
Another time I took a book called House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. It told the story of a house larger on the inside than the outside, with letters, manuscripts, footnotes, empty pages. I’ve never had such a visceral reading experience. It was utterly creepy. My body felt this book, woozy and spacey.
A perfect holiday read – another space, not my own.
I gave blood today with my colleague Brendon. I hadn’t donated for a while – 11 years – due to tattoos, babies, anaemia, and low blood pressure. But it is World Blood Donor Day today, and I passed all the tests so was good to go.
Giving blood makes me think of Dad. He has been a regular donor for years and years. It is one of those social good actions in fitting with how he lives his life. Charity begins at home, and what could be closer to home than your very own precious blood.
It all went well for Brendon and me, we got our plaster and had a glass of cordial and a piece of cake. The staff were wonderfully friendly and helpful and appreciative. The volunteer making sure we were ok afterwards said she helps because her husband had a major transfusion , and it was her way of giving back.
Check out the NZ Blood Service and find out about being a donor.