Would you like to buy some double glazing? Look at this new detergent, how amazing! Small groups of people march to bus stops and train stations, while higher ranking individuals drive powerful luxurious cars to plush offices in shiny glass buildings. Possessions, status, fake smiles, all manner of glamour, short lived floating in a bucket of vomit!

I could tell you a story of a colourful mind, trapped in a grey-baron landscape where individualism is expressed in true carbon-copy form. An original mind like a new colour, drawn to solitude, and from there nobody gets to acknowledge it.

The pursuit of the original mind is perhaps also an original one, the parameters of which are uniquely self-defined and only influenced by rare, unscheduled intrusions of its protective bubble of solitude.

It's mocked for not sliding smoothly into any of the precisely cut, manmade shape holes of society. It's a spare part, inoperative, yet the machine continues operating wildly faster, pushing for ever more. Why be entangled in a pile of bolts, bearings and mangled metal when the machine falls apart in a spectacle of sparks and flames? Why be a part of that?

We are killing our children and resurrecting demons with the light from their eyes. The situation resembles a world in decline, technology is the new sickness engulfing our minds, our thoughts are not our own. Too few stand shouting a warning, as they watch the fatal wave on the horizon, through binoculars from the height of the watchtower. Whilst below the warm, untainted, fuzzy-minded children build sandcastles with their equally unaware mothers and fathers.