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I love shopping.
This can probably be explained in many ways, such as there being an imbalance in my brain or the fact that I never received any meaningful education in economics (I once considered entrepreneurship as an elective in high school, whereupon the Culture Father said this: “Choose something you have utility for instead, like philosophy”).
Only sometimes do I have the energy to be ashamed of my joy in wasting money. Shopping is Thanks. At least the way I do it. It is Thanks uncritically slurping up unnecessary things from thrift store shelves and hangers. Thanks that the goods are put up for sale at lightning speed and then shipped to form giant rat kings out of headbands, skirts and straws in landfills in developing countries.
Now everything is made of plastic, even the wool sweaters. There is plastic in blood and semen. Plastic in you and in me.
Still: so very difficult Don’t get carried away by the wonderful choreography in the malls. Waves of people through Christmas shopping, lunch sales, Mid-season salesEaster, Midsummer, Summer sale, Black Friday. They have stylish jackets and nice hairstyles. They bring a tremendous murmur to the great halls. You allow yourself to be washed away. Signs flash. You don’t know whether it’s outside, in the real world, day or night.
At least it is light in your own unreal interior; That’s where you crawl when you hold a stick vase or hair mousse in front of you and think that this must be the jump – this product can dissolve something in me, lure something out of me, at least define me. After purchasing this product, there probably won’t be any products I want to buy; This article is my savior.
Someone asks if man I need help and I say yes because it shocks you so much to be spoken to. As if in a trance, you float towards a cash register. Someone asks if you need a bag and you say yes. The bag is so small that only one item fits in it. You’re ruining your plastic.
When you come out it’s dark. You’re washed. You have your item in your bag. Money is transferred from savings account; The economy doesn’t matter since that was the final point anyway.
When you’re about to pack up and leave, you need to remember: What was the last item?
After shopping, you meet your husband in town. He rarely buys anything other than books and that’s why he has a hole in his shirt today. He is a wonderful person who never thought about whether new goods could improve things so much. He can’t tell the difference between beautiful and ugly hair and hardly notices if you have a new vase at home.
But he likes you a lot and you’re a little ashamed that you shopped, after all, there are more important things in this world. A few hours go by in a bar and you forget that you have your bag and its contents with you. When you’re about to pack up and leave, you need to remember: What was the last item?
What is it for anyway? When you’re shopping, you wonder whether someone will actually be able to convince you that you already have everything you need. So within yourself. Things that will never end up in a developing country’s landfill. There is another type of wave in which to wash.
Yes yes. Tomorrow I’ll go shopping again. It could be due to an imbalance.
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