Power poles and wires, barbed wires in copycat, sillhouetted in the sunset.

The timer on the chinchilla's sunshine snaps off the light, they rustle and whomp on the wheel.

Turning wheel, water wheel, windmill; nature to power, movement generates electricity.

The sparking voltage he tames, urging it through insulated copper wire, red wire, blue wire and black.

He does it to me too, somehow, with shakey fawn-like hesitation. His willing eyes devour me in unexpected hunger, and he flips through my sketches and water colours searching intently for the answer to the question of me.