photographic deconstruction ~ power meter box

Our old house,

our first beach house.

There lived an old

power box.

Lovely old thing.

Full of character,

and cobwebs.

At night you could hear

It tick over.

And gently hum,

as it racked up the dollars.

But I’m going to miss it;

Miss it’s ticking and humming.

They don’t make them like this


And tend to rip out these and replace

them with those over-rated

digital fuckers.

But I prefer these.

Old and glorious.





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