
Josh took pictures of me on the hill behind the house.
My mom read me an article once about the analog nature of the telephone wire.

Apparently because of wifi, within about fifty years, powerlines will be archaic messages of a bygone era.
Standing high atop their decaying hills.
Forgotten by time.
I wonder what the sky will look like, then.
They always remind me of how truly small we are.
Each little city, a tiny outpost of human endeavor.
A light opon the horizon.
Connected by a string and a tin can.





It's funny because, only this last year, the last place in the United States that didn't have telephone wires finally became connected to the grid. And it was in my own state of Oregon.

This city I have looked upon, since my birth.