'Capitalism is the virus'

 

Under the low concrete roof of the bridge in a shelter the shape of a triangular coffin. Sealed in a secure dwelling. Goodnight to the world. Edge-land sanctuary make daily forays across the marsh. To claim a place in the world. You wouldn’t know the anxiety and the necessity to alleviate it in order to live. Fresh daily produce market nearby. The virus is in the water. Survival instinct kicks in. Everyone like this looks worn out. Just existing is not enough. Is it?  Life so precious to us, we spend millions to save lives. Yet so many lives are a living death. Autumn’s chill brings dead leaves at the onset of winter. Transition seasons hurry us along. Remind us of what we all share. Birth and death and re-birth, maybe. Move the pieces around the board in a clever post-modernist dance; that reveals the mysteries of modern life. And how the privilege of money and health can only go so far in the explanation of it all. The virus makes us sick, it makes us doubt ourselves and most of all it renders us helpless. Once in this state we are captive; held prisoner by economic binds that allow us just enough to keep going, to feed the machine that makes us sick. All critical resistance must be nullified and culture must be reduced to consumer distraction. Sounds old, because it is. It just got more refined. So smooth now that it is barely distinguishable from Ordinary Everyday Life (OEL). But we can resist, we must. Resistance is internal, ideological, individual. You matter, you exist. Keep breathing.