Otherwise known as, the Spider Lair of Doom.
In the early days of summer I accompanied my brother to car service. He bribed me with the promise of taking pictures. “I’ll deal with oil and brake pads, while you will go and shoot things. You love that, I know you do.”
Yes, yes, I do. So I agreed.
Little did the bastard know that the entire little patch of greenery was infested with spiders.
I shit you not. Look.
That white stuff? Spider webs. Every bush, from every side, from top to bottom. Covered in thick spider web.
Perhaps the bastard did know. Perhaps he tricked me.
Now, I’m adventurous, but spiders – especially in potential hoards – terrify me. I bent over one of the bushes carefully to get at least a vague idea of the size of these suckers. And they were… quite impressive. Not as huge as the mothers we get in the lands of villa, but still rather intimidating.
So I felt insecure. Like I was being watched by millions and millions of tiny spider eyes. Waiting to make my acquaintance.
Anyway, I just wrote these 180+ words as an apology for the shitty composition in these photos. I really felt rather anxious to return to the car shop. I kind of want to go back to this place in the dead of winter, when spiders will be under the snow. Dead. Or sleeping deeply, and breathing, just quietly waiting for me to approach their kingdom again.
Maybe it was their original plan.
Instigated by my brother.
OK, let me just get this post over and done with.
Kishinev is charming, but not in that part of city, not really.
There, it was spider webs and sweltering sun.
I think there were some benches around for people to sit down on, but fate would have it that they were freshly painted particularly on that day. Besides, with so many spiders around, I wouldn’t be able to sit down anyway.
Abundance of badly designed billboards do little to aid the city’s charm. Also, those windows under TOPAZ sign look like faces.
During the 1990s people would often steal manhole covers made from metal to sell it as scrap and make a quick buck. I don’t really blame them, everyone was hungry. Falling into those things, however, was not really fun. I never did, but my mum did once. Thank God it was one of the not very deep ones. She came out mostly unscathed. Anyway, when the original metal coverings were stolen, they needed to be replaced with something. The state didn’t have money for new metal ones, so these things were fashioned. They’re still around in abundance.
And these are the originals.
Sex.
These little designs fascinate me. I should go take pictures of as many as I could before they disappear completely.
Kishinev is odd, though. It’s a conglomerate of modern buildings.
Old pavement.
Confused identity.
Really nice trees.
Really brave architectural decisions.
And Soviet – or should I say post-Soviet – urban industrialism and brutalism.
Oddly, I enjoy the combo of trees and latter things the most. They make a nice contrast, and make me appreciate both nature and man, if that makes sense.
