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| The lighthouse at Miramar, Wellington |
I won't go into the details of why this was. The public imagination will probably produce a better story than reality.
It was rainy and I was trying desperately to devour a good chunk of my Agatha Christie book without falling asleep (a frequent habit).
Minutes (or was it hours?) I woke up to find that not much had changed. I find most lighthouses remarkable, but this one that I was parked by was rather underwhelming. Small and unkempt, the path to view it was lichen-coated and slippery in parts. It even had a sign warning people to stay away. After a good nap, it was still underwhelming.
But it wasn't raining anymore.
So, like a good tourist, I got out and snapped a photo of it.
Now at home, I look at this lighthouse and somehow understand it more than I did in person.
How would I describe it? Abandoned? Resilient? Forgotten? Perhaps even haunted?
No matter what it is, the adjectives I fabricate make me realise how much this lighthouse and I are uncannily alike.
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