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Wintergarden | by Peter Kurdulija
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Wintergarden

Anything can roll downhill, someone observed nicely, the truth which I proved on that day overwhelmed and fatigued after a visit to a great museum. Across the pampered grass, around the mature trees and just below the rugby balls I strolled through the massive park hoisted as a horizontal sail of greenery among the endless medley of man made structures. The Domain, that’s how locals like to call it.

 

And here within this oasis I stumbled unexpectedly on a relic from an old millennium, an edifice with charm to spare, a perfect medium for times gone by fantasia.

 

No single soul around, the welcome side effect of being on holiday and out of sync with the rest of the working population, you can take your time, sit down and admire the artistry behind its appearance, the visual substance far above the aesthetic torment of modern architecture. This sight alone is more than enough to satisfy every soul’s daily dosage in beautiful imagery, mine included.

 

I was particularly intrigued with its glass roof and the ghostly appearance of the tall trees through it, swivelled by the eastern winds, the same ones that brought the drizzle and a salty smell of the Hauraki Gulf. How wonderful.

 

That’s the best thing about a trip without destination. Regardless of the direction you choose you always end up in the place you intended.

  

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Taken on August 24, 2016