There used to be more space.
Things were more slowly paced. Artwork was displayed late at night on the small number of television channels that existed instead of endless 24/7 drivel that pervades not only television, but every media channel in existence.
Maybe the global climate change is merely a result of humans doing too fucking much as a species? With increased output there is an increase in energy. Things heat up.
What if humans calmed the fuck down and spent a considerable amount of time admiring all of the beautiful things surrounding them?
If they did that, if they calmed down, I would probably not exist. And then I wouldn’t be able to share my thoughts with this strange world. And that’s okay.
Can we collectively manipulate our electronic voltages down before we all go offline? Or is heating up to an uncomfortable death our destiny? To live our busy lives and then die. To be the stars of our own shows until we reach the proverbial end of the night where procedural logic dictates the human need for rest.
Humans dream of shapes and patterns that represent the frequency of their lives. The life that represents the beautiful art of a life before it all fades into a dark winter full of snow.
And the patterns endlessly repeat.