How little it is we think of the world. When paper receipts are handed out like painkillers, this worthless paper consuming forests.
How little we think of the work that has gone into our lives, not by us, but by the children that sew your clothes, the tired workers who produce your food. Food which must look perfect otherwise we won’t dare buy it; a crumpled packet, a broken biscuit, tossed away.
When there are families going hungry.
These calendar holidays all so we can buy more. drop more plastic into the sea. use supplies on a card your mother will read once then dispose of carelessly.
When did there become so much choice? When did we start needing lipsticks by a dozen brands with numerous colours, or ten different types of mayonnaise?
We are a consumerist culture, one that has been shielded from the rest of the world. The world we don’t see, the one that keeps us upright.
How little is it we think of life.
Pseudolethologica 