Security means which side of the fence you’re on. Or whether you’re within the perimeter, or without.
What on Earth could be more secure, say, than the grave—does any incumbent thereof fear death, doom, defeat, despair, destruction or disaster? So … be careful what you look for, you may just find it. Brrrrr.
Here, have a nice tree I came across in Queens Park. Autumn here now, and it was shedding some bark. No labels, but if I were a bark right now I’d be feeling a bit less secure.
What is safer than money in the bank? Not much today—banks, I mean.
These redundant buildings have been recycled into new incarnations far removed from their original purposes, sitting as they do on three sides of a traffic roundabout in Invercargill where the statue of a long dead warrior perches quite secure atop his column in the centre—
—with once-were-banks to the left of him, banks to the right of him …
—banks before him, banks behind him—
—banks ahead and astern in fact—
—converting swords into shares. Big bucks, Gods, and mammon ever make a timeless team.
Sometimes the quest for other people’s mammon can lead to a government-funded Security much better than most—
—but the question is, does the wall and wire provide better security for the guys within than without?
Are all the nuts securely inside or are some about to split and fall? Where is Security—is there such a beast? Ot is it true that the only place you cannot be hurt is when snug in your grave~? Brrrrr.
Not yet, thanks! I’m not quite ready for that challenge …