Steps: Up Close and Personal

So far we have attempted some flash fiction, as well as trying to answer some 'impossible questions'.

This week's challenge is to think about perspective. 

Try and write a piece entitled 'Near and Far', focusing on a single object.  Begin by describing your chosen object from very close up, noticing the minutest details and interpreting them for your reader. You could pick anything you like: an ordinary household item, an item with special significance for you, or a piece of rubbish blowing in the breeze in the street.

Then move a distance away and see how the perspective changes.  Think carefully about the vocabulary and any imagery you use. You may wish to only reveal what the object actually is at the end. 

I have chosen to write about the steps outside the British Library, simpy because I sat on them for a while at the weekend and had a chance to observe them closely.  I am including only my 'near' description for now:

Cracks, like pencil marks in the stone, trace the journeys and paths of a million footsteps. The fine lines swirl and age with each passing pair of feet.  Tiny particles of dust trapped in holes make smooth again the damaged surface forming a time-worn, careworn concrete canvas: mottled, stained and pock-marked.  Ancient chewing gum blocks a tiny crevice, new mortar for an impromtu repair. A single green leaf has fallen, uninvited.  An upturned polystyrene cup rolls to and fro, detritus of a passing civilisation. 

Three black tramlines mark each edge, reminding life's passengers of the danger of these obstacles.  The steps are deep and wide to accomodate all shapes and sizes: the internal and external weight of the climbing and descending multitude. My two feet can stand one in front of the other on each carved ledge.

What do you think of the description?  Can you identify any ways that I have used language to create a particular effect?