There is a neiberhood in the city of Pula. I mean, there are quite a few of them there, but this post is only about the one called Veruda. It's a place on the outskirts of the city, not far from the sea and the best beaches Pula has to offer.
Once upon a time, on the 23rd of February 2024, to be more precise, I had to do some stuff there, in Veruda, but this isn't what this post is about.
Today I'm about to show you a few extremely uninteresting, mundane scenes I photographed when I stopped for a few minutes by the side of a very dull stretch of bypass road that misses all the interesting parts of the city while leading to the sleepy suburbia with little or nothing to show.
This opening photograph is the highlight of the post. Ok, highlight is probably too strong a word for the rusty old thing you just saw, but believe me, what follows is significantly more insignificant.
The rounded industrial structures that dominate the above picture are the old gas holders built in the mid-1800s, in the Austro-Hungarian period of the city when even the heavy industrial and military stuff looked quite lovely and decorative compared to contemporary condos.
This old villa, photographed about a hundred meters further down the road, looks like something from the same period, but I don't have any certain, reliable information about it.
I took the time and waited a couple of minutes for a slick black car to enter the frame and enhance the picture.
As you can see, there wasn't much one could do to enhance the weather. The sky was boring just like this stuff I'm writing to get a fairly long post out of a few uninspired photographs.
In this shot, I zoomed in on some distant houses built on a small hill.
It's a nice, compact bunch of relatively tall family homes. That's all I can tell you about these buildings.
Here you can see the narrow path that leads through the dense maquis by the side of the road.
The city is near, so you can find a nice amount of garbage if you follow that path. It looks like a place to leave a corpse wrapped in a carpet after a more or less perfect crime.
Some minutes later and about a kilometer or two further, I stopped by this small roadside chapel built not so long ago as a part of the drystone wall that holds a bunch of olives imprisoned inside an olive orchard.
The cemetery lanterns are probably dedicated to those who died in car crashes or traffic accidents of a different kind on this stretch of road.
The wind was pretty strong the night before. That's why some lanterns were overturned and randomly scattered across the terrain in front of the chapel.
A bunch of artificial flowers was also lying on the ground. Along with the vase shaped like a fallen angel.
In this shot, you can take a better, more up-close look at the angel and its divine barcode.
The melted wax looked like a pale replica of the blood from a fresh roadkill.
The Madonna was observing the mess ...
... from her cage in the shrine.
There wasn't much she could do, the Mother Of God isn't a cleaning lady, after all.
I took this photograph on the way back home, which means that is time to end this rambling post.
AS ALWAYS HERE ON HIVE, THE PHOTOGRAPHS ARE MY WORK - THE END.