This Easter weekend just been, I found myself lurking in the old North Head gun battery; a kind of uber-depressing rabbit warren. A bunch of kiwi WWII dudes lived in what can only really be described - as one passing visitor so eloquently put it - as 'basically rape dungeons'. True, that you wouldn't want to find yourself locked in this place late at night. The men sat there day in and day out, waiting for the impending attack from the Russians, which of course, never eventuated. If the Russians HAD arrived on these shores, I'm fairly confident that this little artillery would've folded upon first hit and we'd all be speaking Russian right now. Apart from the history lesson, these dingy corridors and holes in the rock made for some rather beautiful, eerie light with a subsequent chiaroscuro effect.