We are still all kept outside the inner, cordoned-off red zone of post-earthquake Christchurch, occasionally fed videos of the state of demolition. This is the one for this week.
It won't mean a lot to people who don't live here... and in quite a lot of the movie, it doesn't mean a lot to us either - empty sections, bare brick walls, rubble. A place that feels vaguely familiar and that we really ought to recognise, but just can't. Don't know what was there, or which direction they are driving, or whether the buildings we can see are coming down right now, or will be soon, or if they will stay.
And then suddenty you see a landmark; something recognisable, familiar. Instantly you know exactly where you are and what should be there and what direction you are facing. Something you loved; a place you cherished...filled with memories. Now a hollow, soulless place with awnings torn, parapets gone, lifeless and dead. And you blink back tears as the loss sears through you, realising it is now just a memory, even though the structure is still standing.
This time for me it was Sullivan's, the Irish Pub, Manchester St.