Are you one of the victims in this epidemic of sad and exhausted people? Does the sound of a clacking keyboard and the ping of notifications cause you needless panic? Do you, a dozen times a day, wish you could escape to the middle of a rainforest, build a cabin there, make tea, read Victorian literature, be one with nature, forget modernism?
Have you become numb? Do you feel guilty that you can no longer care? Oh, the news! An earthquake here, a flood there, and a fire next door; and yet, your pulse remains flat.
How drab it has all become.
A man might drop to his death, and an eyelid would not be bat. People would simply run up, to see if his apartment has now become available, or whether a vacancy has come up at the office from whence he flew.