The lady mosque at Imam Square and the Ali qa pu palace and some of the shops around the square

Light on the floor of the lady mosque. The boss man built it for his ladies so that no one would see them while they prayed. He built a tunnel from the palace to the mosque for them to decrease the chance of illicit glimpses and to increase the likelihood of vitamin D deficiency.

The door out of the lady mosque (it has a proper name, but I am full of lazy this afternoon - it is opposite the Ali qapu palace [which I am pretty sure I have spelled wrong, but the laziness is widespread]

Under the lady mosque.

This is the bit under the lady mosque where you pray in the winter time. It reminds me of the underground carpark at Melbourne Uni, but with fewer roller blades.

Waiting for something... somewhere... 

Looking up at the roof of the palace, the bit where the boss man (I should look up what he was called, as well) used to sit to watch the polo when he wasn't playing the polo.

This is under the roof in the previous picture. I don't know if you can read the sign, "Please, Don't Enter The Pond."

The next two pictures are evidence that Esfahan, while called the Pearl of the Orient, is actually the city of Morag, friend in Vancouver. This is the old music room at the top of the palace. Mustafa likened the acoustics in the room to those in the Sydney Opera House. The thin sheets of clay cut in the shapes of instruments do it some how. Also, it is somehow set up so that the ladies (who weren't allowed in there) could still hear the music clearly from another room. She should be in here hearing these acoustics, not me.

This is a painting of a lady. I don't know who she is, but in my mind I thought of her as Scheherazade and I call this further proof that this is the city of Morag. For some reason, every picture I have seen here of the Queen of storytellers looks just a little bit like Morag.

Pony, Stag, Pegasus.

Final proof, if any was needed that this is the city of Morag. Look at the size of that teapot.