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The telephone repairman with white helmet, indigo work clothes, and belt with clippers, wires, gadgets, and meters – who is attached to the telephone pole outside at the same level as the balcony, and is nestled within the telephone pole wires with a clear sight line from where I am now sitting – almost blends into the powder blue and lightly clouded sky. If the light changes a bit he might disappear and I would see wires moving and attaching to one another of their own volition.