This mailbox – in an unfamiliar suburb – stopped me in my tracks last Wednesday afternoon.
Why? Two reasons, I guess. First, it’s not every day you see a light-blue mailbox. Second, it’s obviously seen better days, judging by the rust, the wonky orientation and the damage to the top.
But in totality, I saw a certain beauty here. Simply because it was, well, different. I saw something to be admired in the context of the way it fitted its surroundings – the painted picket fence, the garden and the unswept leaves that formed a beautiful bronze carpet.
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