I wonder how many people have went through that mall today. I wonder if they found what they were looking for among the shiny engraved plastic plates, the padded shirts and the seasonally priced nicknack's, forever twirling in our pale economy.
All new, our junk reaches out to grab you, like saying, “If only this can complete your nieces happiness.” Me I prefer my junk old and with history.
It's a scam, and we all know it. It keeps us content with the realization that we will never go out to pursue our dreams. Why climb the mountain when you could possess its picture in a print? You can look at it and dream almost every day. Why experience the world when you could possess a part of it on your nightstand? Why even move, when electronics will display the images as if your reality constructed it.
And with all the hustling of stand in's in t-shirts and the giggling of the half experienced girls is a preferability to the empty hollowness of manufactured fantasy. They will only need to get better junk when the experience breaks down or they are told their fantasy has become obsolete.
I guess real experience can be scary, with its hurt, fear, feeling and dreams. We want to experience it all but without any of the work and danger that life brings. So we retreat to our large hollow malls and our poorly constructed junk.
To the food courts, those sprawled our public dining areas were we rehash the latest myths, the newest opinions we are suppose to hold, the unfulfillment of our latest human contact and the plans we hold for a future we will never pursue
Me... I just came for the coffee.
:mittens: