The boy cared nothing for the letters, even the stamps he gave only a glance and then his mind wandered as he poked amongst a pile of old cans and bottles he had poked amongst every time he had walked this track. He opened the door of the old rusty oven as he had done every other time and inspected it for funnel webs or bush mice, but there was nothing. He slammed the door and it did not occur to him that he tram­pled amongst the rusting and shattered dreams of a man’s misguided pas­sion.