Location: SF Bay Area
What is it like to kill for sustenance? To kill an animal in the name of survival? Is there fear the first time? Do you give thanks by performing some sort of ritual? What would someone who is used to dining at an upscale restraunt expect? Having their high class food brought to them on the floating ambience of little work for themselves. Do people know what it takes, as they approach my cash register buying their absorbent amounts of prepackaged things, to make and have them brought to stores?
“I can get this cheaper on Amazon. You do price match right?”
“There is a kink in the cover, I should get a discount.”
“I see you don’t have The Book That Everyone is Buying on your shelf. I already spoke with someone one who said you didn’t have it in the back either. Could you check again in your cave of wonders stock room?”
“What do you mean they don’t publish A Book That’s Out of Print!? You have all the control over this! You need to make this happen and get me my book!”
“I see you sell candles in your gift area. What is the difference between soy based and regular? Do you make them in house, because I am looking for something in a sandlewood.” The customer hands over the package where it loudly reads Made in China.
Most of people upon entering their shopping experiences lose all form of thought and social skill. They are focused on themselves, with the tendency to act in the most obnoxious manner. The past hunters and gathers now simply argue over all reason and logic. Like an infant who thinks peek a boo is a game of magic, so does some folks with the shopping experience.
Some people have lost touch with themselves, with nature, with the world around them. They are living living in a constant matrix propetually propelling themselves through their work day, then onto the local markets for food, supplies and the extra amount of things they need to function within their own home. The television, the smart phone, the grill, the fidget cube, the play staytion, the blown out ideals that have been long gone.
People float by in the shopping area, heading to the most expensive shops for their high priced, high demand items with their coach bags donned on their arms. Their eyes capturing a quick glimpse of me as I observe but quickly move back to their routine. Like a herd of gazelle they flee from one of the most possible signs of danger for them: human contact. That is until they are ready to pay with their platinum or mobile devices. Or maybe they forgot I even existed for that one second when their eyes turned briefly, that is until they morphed, ready for their demanding nature to take over.
Their gold chains chink as they walk. The click click click of their heels as they balance against the linoliam floor. Some cellphones attatched to their ears ignoring the reality around them. And yet, I wonder how their big diamonds on their ears don’t get caught. How Talbot’s Petite seems to get their money as they fork over their very retired soul. How would they react to killing their own food for survival?