Look at the screen.
Look into the screen.
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Look at the screen.
Look into the screen.
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Touch the fabric of the web.
Feel its texture.
Think of the hands that weave this web.
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Whose hands are they?
Are they your hands? — The hands of others? — Hands of machines? — Of math? — Of the Market?
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Each day we wake here.
We live our lives here.
It should be a tranquil place.
This space is still new. We have the opportunity to make it our own.
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Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale!
Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale!
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Are we content with the way things are? To be confronted each day with a never-ending mound of hate and product?
Does the way this space looks, feels, and functions not affect us significantly?
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