I walk around and look at the people in the street, the life they live. The only concept for life they know is work and wages, work and wages, the immortal cycle of labor assigned and tasks performed to boss’s satisfaction. Last year, in Tatra, I explained my reasons for coming – couldn’t get a flight, ended up with an extra week in the country, didn’t want to be in the city. Nice accident to have, commented a man, but will they give you the days off? It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. He was my age, but he was still a slave of his job. He had a teenage daughter who worshipped him; she will grow up like him, a little cog in the machine. God knows, she won’t learn from him that there are other ways to live.
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