autopilot

ineluctable march towards automation, what we bitterly acquiesce we gain in time. time has a way of making things paradoxically more simple and complex all within the same breath. a reflection of humanity, perhaps, but nevertheless, the inevitability of a automated world frees us from mundane chores only to give ourselves over to even more work in our work obsessed culture; where pleasure is only gained through the amount of materials we accumulate; slaves to an endless drive to consume; devoid and detached from actual connections to the things that gives us purpose, meaning, rest. driven to insanity we pass the time scrolling on our screens in a car that takes us to our next destination of self-annihilation belied in productivity.