They're so ubiquitous as to be completely invisible. So invisible there's no need to even attempt to disguise them or dress them up. Creosote-soaked lumber poles that wouldn't look out of place in an 1870 Wyoming cow town. The juice that powers our bright, shiny, new, digitized, interconnected world stung up over our heads in so careless and hideous a fashion it mocks the monkey on our back, rubbing our collective noses in our neediness.
Ubiquitous, invisible, mocking and extraordinarily vulnerable. A pole broken in a car crash, a few lines pulled down by a felled tree limb and we're back in the 19th century.
Ubiquitous, invisible, mocking and extraordinarily vulnerable. A pole broken in a car crash, a few lines pulled down by a felled tree limb and we're back in the 19th century.
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